Four months in London: June, July, August, September. She’d been to London once and loved it. She’d dreamed of doing something like this someday, although she’d never really believed it could happen. Coming now, when she was feeling so low, it was a heaven-sent opportunity. But what would Jonathan say?
Sixty-Three
Soon after his arrival in London, Heyward had telephoned Rachel to ask if he could come to see her, explaining that he needed only half an hour of her time. She’d invited him to join her for lunch and suggested several possible dates. She’d made it clear she wanted to see him. Maybe, as he’d hoped, she’d begun to think of him as a friend. He’d know soon. The chosen day had arrived.
“Welcome back,” Rachel said. “Come into the sitting room. Would you like a glass of sherry?”
He declined, and when they’d settled by the fire, he said, “I wanted to talk to you about Simon. He’ll be released from the clinic in a few months, and I don’t want him to turn up in New York or to return to London. I think you feel the same way. Am I right?”
“I certainly would prefer that he settle somewhere other than here, but how can he be prevented from returning?”
“I think he’ll find a new life in Australia. I propose to buy him a contemporary art gallery in Melbourne. It’s successful and, unless he ruins it with his plots and schemes, should continue to do well. I’ll buy him a house and a car, and provide him with a liberal allowance. I’ll guarantee the allowance for ten years, on condition that he doesn’t enter the UK or the US.”
Rachel nodded. “Simon is a born remittance man—I thought so when he lived in New York. But he is expensive. That is a very generous offer. How can you be sure he will not come back secretly?”
“I’ll make sure he’s watched,” Heyward said. “Is the arrangement I described acceptable to you?”
“Certainly. May I help financially?”
“No, thanks. I created the monster; I should pay the price. I have a happier topic to discuss. Has Dinah told you about the company Coleman and I have set up?”
“She said it involves magazine publishing. Do I have that right?”
“Yes, but I also want to expand into book publishing. I’m interested in the publication of art books, including bringing back out-of-print books. When we established the bookstore in the Print Museum, we couldn’t obtain most of the books we’d planned to sell. Even secondhand copies were difficult to find. What do you think?”
“That is a wonderful idea. How may I help?” Rachel said.
“I’d like you to join the board of the art book subsidiary. Be on the lookout for new books we should publish, suggest out-of-print books we should rescue.”
“I should enjoy that,” Rachel said. She stood up. “Shall we have lunch? We can talk more about this delightful project, and perhaps you will bring me up to date on all the excitement in New York?”
He was right: she was willing to be his friend. He smiled to himself. He also had a sister and friends who’d be glad to see him when he returned to New York. And interesting work to do. To think that so recently he’d been bored and lonely. How quickly life could change.
Sixty-Four
Hunt was exhausted. He’d scarcely slept since Heyward Bain’s revelations, and the days that followed the attempted murder of Loretta Byrd had been the worst in his life. They made the unpleasant period of his divorce seem like a holiday in Paris.
The confrontation with Moose had been devastating. When Moose had seen the letters from Colossus’s Roger Black to Coleman, he’d appeared stricken, but he hadn’t been contrite or apologetic, just furious that Black had supplied the link that would send Moose to jail. When Hunt told him that the SEC and the attorney general knew about his activities, and could arrive at DDD&W at any time, Moose admitted everything and, in an attempt to get a reduced sentence, identified two of his young associates as a part of the inside-information scheme.
Hunt had called security to escort the three of them out of the building and arranged to have their offices padlocked. Ever since their departure, every floor at DDD&W had been flooded with investigators. He’d kept his own door closed, and behind it, he’d terminated the three inside-information sellers and twenty tax-dodgers. Counting Harrison, whom he’d ordered Danbury to dismiss, that was twenty-four departures, and he hadn’t finished cleaning house.
He’d instructed Leichter to get rid of his paramour, Naomi Skinner, who had briefly been head of human resources. He’d warned Leichter that any more office romances would mean the end of his career at DDD&W. Funds for paying off Skinner, beyond the normal severance package determined by length of service, had to come out of Leichter’s pocket.
He’d dismissed Trixie and her helpers and sent out a memo announcing the closing of the dining room and the cafeteria: employees would hereafter pay for their own lunches, and company-financed snacks were no longer available.
The Cobra had written a ferocious letter to Oscar Danbury threatening him with arrest if he exposed himself and/or displayed his disgusting desktop trick again. Hunt had followed up the Cobra’s letter by ordering Danbury to bring in an exterminator and professional cleaners to scrub thirty and thirty-one—at his expense. Danbury was now responsible for keeping those floors immaculate and vermin-free.
Hunt had taken some time off from firing the criminal and the incompetent to tell Amy Rothman she had been elected DDD&W’s first female partner. After explaining what had happened to Moose and why, he’d asked her to take over Moose’s department. He’d warned her that she’d have to reduce both the number of Moose’s Merry Men, and the huge number of accountants he’d hired, while simultaneously reassuring clients. Her eagerness and enthusiasm had been gratifying.
At the end of each grueling day, he went home to his empty apartment and ate Chinese or Indian takeout for his lonely supper. He fell into bed, where he lay awake tossing and turning, thinking of Moose’s villainy and the shock of learning that Theodore Douglas was a murderer, thief, polygamist, and criminal coconspirator with the Boston lawyer who’d cheated and abused the Davidson twins. Douglas: the lying vicious partner he’d considered a friend. His only friends at DDD&W had turned out to be treacherous, even wicked. How could he have been so mistaken about them?
He’d been overjoyed to learn that after all she’d been through, Elizabeth Davidson was willing to forgive and forget, and wanted to join DDD&W. Although she was now the firm’s largest stockholder, she wasn’t demanding an executive role, but humbly asking for a chance to learn. She was willing to let the Prince Charles Stuart Museum have the Davidson Americana collection. There would be no multimillion-dollar suit from the museum, that crazy Scot was off his back, and the Cobra had disappeared. With any luck he’d never be heard from again.
He wasn’t sure he could trust anyone at DDD&W except Elizabeth Davidson and Amy. He’d have to get to know everyone who worked there. Find good people to replace the bad ones. Rebuild the firm. Get a life. In that connection, he was determined to make a telephone call. He’d struggled to put Coleman Greene out of his mind ever since he met her and had failed miserably. He hadn’t been free to ask her out—she was press, and then she became a client, and he couldn’t talk to her about anything he was doing. He’d been terrified she’d expose the dreadful situation at DDD&W before he could improve it. He was committed to saving DDD&W, and he’d had so many problems to deal with he hadn’t had time to do anything else. Maybe too much work had clouded his judgement.
But as far as he knew, all of the dirty laundry had been scrubbed and exposed to sun and fresh air. He still thought about Coleman, still wanted to see her socially. He’d start with an apology and an invitation to dinner. Maybe in time she’d forgive him for how he’d treated her.
Sixty-Five
Rob had never felt worse. This case had been a nightmare, and he and his agency had done a miserable job. Ace, to whom he’d assigned tracing the Davidson daughters and their mother, had been unrepentant about his dereliction: he’d be
en busy at school, and just “hadn’t got around to it.” Rob had not realized Ace was so irresponsible. Ace was paid by the hour, so firing him had little impact on him, but Rob couldn’t use Ace again, and he was already short of staff.
The men who’d failed to get the information about the Victor sisters’ lovers from the old woman across the hall from their apartment weren’t defensive; when criticized, they’d retorted that they hadn’t been given photographs of the various men involved in the case. That was Rob’s job, not theirs. All too true, and as for Dinah and Jonathan’s alarm system, it simply hadn’t occurred to him. He’d been overworked, understaffed, and preoccupied with persuading Coleman to marry him.
But all of that was no excuse for his oversights and his bad performance. He’d try to pick up the pieces somehow, starting with a letter of apology to Jonathan and Dinah. He didn’t think anything would improve his relationship with Coleman. He’d seen how she looked at Jeb Middleton.
Sixty-Six
Bethany and Zeke had come back from North Carolina starry-eyed, full of plans, and floating on air. Bethany had wanted to tell Dinah the news first, so she’d made Zeke promise to keep their secret till she’d spoken to Dinah. But as soon as she saw Dinah’s face, Bethany knew something was wrong. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”
Dinah burst into tears. When she’d managed to stop crying and explained that her tears were partly relief because Loretta was all right, Bethany couldn’t understand at first. When she finally grasped Dinah’s incoherent story, she was horrified. “You’re tellin’ me I let this happen ‘cause I left early?” Bethany said.
Dinah shook her head. “No, no, don’t think that. Loretta told Coleman that she had a plan B. If you hadn’t left her there alone, she was going to leave with you, and go back later, tell the guards she forgot something, do everything just the way she did. She was obsessed with showing us what a good detective she was. I guess everything that happened before she got here went to her head—” Dinah broke off, staring at Bethany’s left hand. “What a gorgeous ring. Are you and Zeke engaged?”
Bethany smiled. “Yes, we’re gettin’ married in three weeks. I want you to be my matron of honor, and Coleman maid of honor. But I need to know for sure: are you certain I’m not responsible for Loretta bein’ hurt?”
“Good Lord, no. You can’t stop girls like Loretta from doing rash things. Loretta has to learn everything the hard way. Forget all that. It’s over. And I’d love to be your matron of honor. That’s an easy decision. Here’s one that’s not so easy.” She handed Bethany a letter.
Bethany, saucer-eyed, read it and said, “What an honor! Wow! You’re goin’ to do it, aren’t you? You can’t turn this down, Dinah. It’s a fabulous opportunity. And you deserve it.”
Dinah didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Yes, I am going to accept it. Can you run the gallery and be a newly married lady at the same time?”
Bethany laughed. “You bet I can!” Her face sobered. “But what will Jonathan say?”
“I don’t know what he’ll say. A husband ought to be thrilled if his wife won an honor like this one, but Jonathan might not see it that way. Whatever he says, I’m going to do it. It’s the chance of a lifetime, and if I don’t take it, I’ll always regret it.”
When Bethany told Zeke about the conversation, she said, “You know how sweet she always looks? So agreeable and easy goin’? For a few seconds, she looked just like Coleman does when Coleman says she’s goin’ to do somethin’, and you know nothin’ in this world will stop her. That’s how Dinah looked. I see trouble ahead. That Jonathan is bossy, and he likes to keep Dinah on a short leash.”
“If he tries to stop her, I hope she’ll tell him to go to hell,” Zeke said. “It’s time Dinah got recognition. And it’s time Jonathan supported her, instead of putting obstacles in her way. I’d never do that to you.”
She smiled. “I know,” she said.
Since everything had turned out all right, Dinah and Coleman hadn’t called Loretta’s parents to tell them about her injury. They’d left it up to her to tell. Or not. Loretta appreciated their discretion, and she’d decided to keep the story to herself. But she felt odd. The doctors said she was fine, and she might look the same on the outside, but inside, where it counted, something had changed. She didn’t yet know how it would all play out, but maybe—just maybe—New York wasn’t the place she wanted to be—or should be. Maybe she wasn’t ready for the major leagues. She’d made a lot of mistakes, had been overconfident, had been determined to show off. Her people judgment wasn’t too good either—she’d thought the man who tried to kill her was a nice guy. She’d been naïve, and it nearly got her killed. She was going home to North Carolina, and maybe she wouldn’t come back.
Sixty-Seven
Coleman sat behind the big desk in the enormous office Debbi had designed for her. The room was forty feet long, too big for comfort. The view was magnificent, but she’d always disliked heights, and the fifty-fifth floor was way too high; she didn’t like looking down on New York. All the walls that weren’t glass were bare, waiting for her to decorate them. If she moved the framed ArtSmart covers up here from her little office on the fifth floor, they’d be lost. Even if she framed every cover she’d published, not just her favorites. She sighed and looked at Dolly. Dolly’s basket was so far away they could hardly see each other. Coleman moved the basket close to her desk every morning, but every night the cleaning people always put it back where the decorators had placed it.
She scuttled crablike across the room, staying close to the back wall and as far from the windows as possible, grabbed the basket in one hand, and cuddled Dolly in her other arm. She put the basket beside her desk and held Dolly in her lap. Dolly wagged her tail and settled down. Just the feel of her warm furry little body snuggled against her helped, but she still felt strange.
A closed door to her left led to Heyward’s office. He said he’d leave it open when he was in. But he wasn’t here. Heyward was in London and wouldn’t be back for another week. She missed him. She’d call Dinah, but what was she to say? That she was lonely? She was never lonely. Call Rob? They hadn’t spoken since the dinner at Heyward’s the night that Loretta was nearly killed. He was hurt by her flirting with Jeb, but he had finally accepted her refusal to marry him. She’d like to be friends, but he wasn’t interested. So be it. There was always work to do, and she should get on with it.
The phone rang. She picked up the receiver. “Coleman Greene speaking,” she said.
“Hi, Coleman, Amy here. We have a lot to talk about. Are you free for lunch?”
Coleman brightened. “Absolutely. Anywhere but at your place.”
Amy laughed. “No chance. Hunt closed down the dining room and the cafeteria, and let Trixie and her trashy troops go.”
Coleman sat up straight. “No! What else?”
“Lots and lots of news. Tell you later. How about Michael’s? Twelve thirty?”
“Great. I’ll see you there.” She felt better. She had a friend. Someone to talk to. The phone rang. Good. She needed distraction. From missing Heyward. From this huge office. From the view.
“Coleman Greene,” she said.
“Hey, it’s Jeb Middleton. I’ve been tryin’ to reach you for days—were you hidin’ from me?”
“Don’t be silly. I’ve been working really hard. I was so far behind, I didn’t answer the phone.” All of that was true, but not quite the whole story. She’d wanted a breathing spell before she saw Jeb again. She’d been out with him three times. He was almost too attractive, and like everything else in her life, her relationship with Jeb was moving at high speed.
“Would you like to have dinner tonight? Before you say no, I warn you: I’ll ask you out every night for months till you say yes.”
Coleman smiled. She’d played hard to get long enough. “I’m not about to say no. I was hoping you’d call.”
“Wonderful. I made a reservation at La Grenouille, just in case. It’s one of my favo
rites because the food is so good and it’s quiet. If that’s all right, I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Lovely,” she said. “I’ll look forward to seeing you.”
She leaned back in her chair, thinking about Jeb. She felt the thrill of anticipation. She liked being pursued. She also liked a man who chose the restaurant, and told her which it was so she’d know what to wear, but gave her a chance to say she’d rather go somewhere else. What should she wear? Something sexy but not too obvious. She had just finished a dark green lace jacket to wear over a green silk slip dress…
The phone rang. Good heavens! This was Telephone City. “Coleman Greene.”
“Coleman, this is Hunt Frederick. I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened. I called to ask you if you’d let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night, so I can apologize properly.”
Coleman was dumbfounded. “Well—uh—what a surprise. I had the impression you didn’t like me.”
“On the contrary. I’ve wanted to ask you out ever since we met. But circumstances—oh, Lord, I can’t do this on the phone. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Coleman smiled. “Well, sure. I’d like to hear what you have to say about our early meetings. You certainly managed to disguise your interest in me.”
“I can explain. That’s what men always say, isn’t it? But it’s true. Is Le Bernardin okay? Shall I call for you at seven thirty?”
“Perfect. Do you have my address?”
“I certainly do.”
When she’d hung up, Coleman stroked Dolly’s soft white fur. Dolly looked up at her, dark brown eyes adoring. “That was a surprise, wasn’t it? I thought Hunt Frederick hated me, and I sure didn’t like him. Looks like I might be wrong about him. Funny, we were all wrong about Ted. I remember what Jonathan said about him—nice, not very smart. We all thought he was a lightweight. No one thought he was dangerous. I certainly didn’t. I was wrong about him. Maybe I was wrong about Hunt, and I thought Moose was just a buffoon. And I thought Rob was a good detective. And I thought I had good people judgment. That’s a laugh.
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