Nikki let him rant on, knowing that before long he’d wear himself down and then she’d give him the one-two punch, which would send him flying into the offices of Kingston with her.
“This is not a good idea. Not at all. A bad guy killed Georges, now he’s after you and he probably knows you’re butting in where you shouldn’t be. Why do you do these things? God, what you must have been like as a teenager.”
Nikki nodded. “Yeah. Um, Simon?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “What would the Guru Sansibaba say about you not being willing to help a friend?”
“Oh, aren’t you a tricky one? There you go using my spiritual connection to get me to do something that is just so wrong. I’ll tell you what the Guru would not want me to do—lie.”
Nikki sighed and took Simon’s hand. “But he would also say that truth and justice should be sought, right?” That was the first swing in the punch. “And sometimes to get to the truth, there has to be a little tiny white lie thrown in there, right?” She squeezed his hand.
“It’s not a teeny lie.”
“Okay, it’s not teeny, but it might help me—I mean us—find the killer and see that the truth is uncovered.”
His head bobbed and he rolled his eyes at her. “You’re difficult.”
“I won’t wear any more sweater sets, like I promised, and then I’ll take you for drinks and a meal at another fine establishment. I know just the place.” That was the knockout jab.
“No more Doris Day, goody-two-shoes crap, huh?”
She crossed her heart with one of her fingers. “Promise.”
“Fine.” He blew a big breath out and hunched over as if he’d been defeated. “What’s my name again?”
Nikki went on to explain that Simon was to go into Kingston’s offices with her and they were to play the parts of Renee Rothschild and her assistant Scott Nielsen. She’d been busy that morning, implementing the plan she’d thought of the night before while talking with Janie and Trevor. First off, she phoned Rothschild Publishing that morning to let Scott Neilsen—Renee’s assistant—know that it was necessary to reschedule Ms. Rothschild’s appointment with Mr. Kingston for the following week as Mr. Kingston had to go out of town. Then, she called Kingston’s offices and insisted they had to meet today, as Renee Rothschild was leaving town on Thursday for a family situation and they had to meet before she left. It took some teeth pulling, but Kingston’s secretary said that he agreed to meet with them. Finally, she’d done as planned and driven into the city with Simon, shopped and dined and afterward spilled it all on Simon, who she knew would need some convincing but would come around. When it came down to it, he loved to play Rock Hudson to her Doris Day.
“Why are we doing this again?” Simon asked.
“Because we have to find out if Janie is really Georges’ daughter, and if she isn’t his heir, then we need to find out who gets Georges’ estate. It may lead us to the killer.” Nikki had to tell Simon about Janie. In order to possibly protect the girl, Nikki had to break her promise to her.
“Don’t you think that hot-but-surly S.O.B. dick—pardon my French but dick is the correct nickname for detective, especially for that Robinson dick—might have thought of this already and that he’s talked with this Kingston?”
“Exactly. I’m sure he has, and therefore, we are wasting time standing here.”
“I know the dick is, well, you know, a dick, but Nikki, why do you have it in for him so bad?”
“Let’s just say, and be forewarned my friend, that it’s never wise to tell a woman to chill, or back off, or to mind her own business.”
“Oh, I get it. He told you not to play Nancy Drew. He might be onto something there.”
“You’re on my side. So, shut up, and come on, let’s go. You can do this. You’ve got a flair for drama. You know, Simon, you remind me of Rock.”
“Hudson?”
She nodded.
“I can see that,” Simon replied and stood up straight, hoisting his shoulders back. “All right, Doris, I’m going in with you.”
“Follow my lead,” Nikki said as they rode the elevator to the tenth floor. When it opened, Nikki took a pair of glasses out of her Louis Vuitton briefcase—an extravagant birthday gift from Aunt Cara purchased while Cara was in Paris. She may not have looked quite as chic as Renee Rothschild, but she knew she cleaned up well when she put some effort into it. At Nordy’s she’d changed into one of Simon’s picks, a fitted jacket with a corset lace-up back and pencil skirt in a chocolate color with a turquoise silk cami underneath and a pair of slingbacks to match. Nikki thought poor Simon might faint when he first saw her.
She strode up to the receptionist seated behind a large semicircle light wood desk. A stern-looking dark-haired woman with a large face, but no chin to speak of, looked up. “May I help you?” she asked.
Nikki’s knees knocked together. What if Scott Nielsen or Renee had called back for some reason? What if the jig was up? They were here now and they needed to go through with it. “We’re here to see Mr. Kingston. Renee Rothschild with Rothschild Publishing and Scott Nielsen.”
The woman nodded and buzzed Kingston’s office, then let them in. A man, presumably Kingston, had his chair back to them and was shouting obscenities into the phone. He spun around. The receptionist closed the door behind them. He motioned for them to sit down. “I’ll speak to you about this later. Do not do another goddamn thing until we talk.” He slammed the phone down, his face beet red, his blue eyes practically bulging out of his head. “Leonard Kingston. Sit down, please.” He stood and stretched out his hand.
Nikki took it and introduced herself as Renee and Simon as Scott. They all sat and Nikki couldn’t help wonder if she’d seen him before. His eyes had a distinct look to them that she thought she recognized. No, it likely was the intense way he stared at her. It kind of reminded her of Andrés, who also looked at her as if he could see through her. A bit disconcerting, especially since she and Simon were there to try and pull off one huge lie.
“I know this is about Georges Debussey, and I am very busy, Ms. Rothschild. The will is scheduled to be read next week. I don’t know what is so important that it couldn’t wait until then.” He eyed Nikki. “So, do you want to tell me what it is?” Kingston dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. He set it down and ran a hand through his thinning gray hair.
“We’re here, Mr. Kingston, in regard to Mr. Debussey’s estate as you stated,” Nikki said.
Kingston shook his head. “I am aware of that. It is terrible, isn’t it? Poor Georges. He was a great guy. I still can’t believe it. I hope they catch the bastard that did it. But that still doesn’t explain what you want from me.”
Nikki nodded. Simon opened up a notepad and acted as if he were prepared to take notes. “It is horrible. Do you have any idea who would kill him?” Might as well take a stab at it while she had the chance.
“The only one that comes to mind is his former agent. I’m sure you remember the ass, being Georges’ editor.”
Did he know they were pulling the wool over his eyes? The way he said “editor” made Nikki wonder. “Oh boy, don’t you know. An ass indeed. I can’t stand Henry Bloomenfeld.”
“He was pretty angry when Georges dumped him. You did receive my letter last month about me taking over the literary affairs for Georges?”
Nikki looked at Simon. She nudged him with her foot. “We did receive that, Mr. Kingston, and I placed it in Georges’ file. I’m not certain Ms. Rothschild has had a chance to take a look at it as she’s been terribly busy. Thus, the reason I’m here. She gets overwhelmed at times and needs some help.”
Nikki kicked him this time.
“Good assistants are hard to find,” Mr. Kingston said.
“They are indeed, and I am blessed to have Scotty here.” She smiled at Simon. “Anyway, I will take a look at your letter and get back to you on that.” She had to take a chance here and hope it paid off. “However, since neither you nor Bloomenfeld worked t
he last cookbook deal with Rothschild, neither of you is eligible to collect any royalties.”
Kingston nodded. “I’m aware of that. Is that what this is about? Georges came to me after discovering that Bloomenfeld was skimming his royalties before sending Georges his paychecks. We thought about suing, as you know through the e-mail correspondence you and I had on the topic. And, thank you for getting me all of those sales numbers so quickly.”
“Thank Scotty. Not a problem though. I’m surprised we haven’t met before now. It’s a shame it has to be under these circumstances.” Nikki shifted uneasily in her chair and crossed and uncrossed her legs.
“People are busy, and this was why Ms. Rothschild wanted to meet you now,” Simon interjected. “Because business should not be about e-mails and phone calls, but about people. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Kingston didn’t reply.
“You and Georges didn’t go forth with the suit against Bloomenfeld,” Nikki stated as if she knew this was the correct answer.
“No. Waste of time and money. Georges thought about it on principle, but in the end it would have cost him more in my fees than what Bloomenfeld stole.”
“Right. Mr. Kingston, we’re here because we need to know who the beneficiary is of Georges’ royalties,” Nikki said.
Kingston leaned back in his chair and swiveled it to the side. On the table behind him, against the high-rise window, were some photos. “Beautiful family,” Simon said, pointing to an eight by ten of Kingston about fifteen years younger, an attractive blonde woman with early-nineties big hair, and a little boy of about ten.
“Thank you,” Kingston replied. “As I’ve explained already, I will be reading the will and have a copy sent to your office upon release here in the next couple of weeks, as soon as I notify the beneficiaries. What’s Rothschild’s hurry?”
“As you know, we have the cookbook coming out in a few weeks, and being that Georges coauthored the book with Derek Malveaux, his untimely death complicates matters. We already have the print run and orders in the thousands. We expect the book to hit the bestseller list, at least for cookbooks, and basically we can’t go forth without the beneficiary’s signature.” Nikki knew this was bull, and so would Kingston, but she had another story ready to tell. Simon had his head down and she thought he might pee his pants.
“You can go through with the run. I’ve seen the contract and there shouldn’t be a problem with that as long as the beneficiary receives the royalties,” Kingston said, his eyebrows arched high.
“I realize that, but the problem lies with Mr. Malveaux himself. He’s a very ethical man, and well, he doesn’t feel comfortable with this. You understand.”
“And, Mr. Malveaux has agreed that if you can help us out today, he’d like you to represent him with the next book,” Simon said.
Nikki was so stunned that she couldn’t even kick him this time.
“He did, huh?” Kingston looked at Nikki.
She smiled and nodded. “Yes. He’d like to do a book on the wine-making process, which interests so many people these days. And, I told him since he didn’t have an agent he should consider using you. I know that Georges had a lot of faith in you, and I figured since we were meeting today that I would suggest it.”
“Why don’t I call Malveaux myself then, and we can work this out?”
“We spoke to him this morning again and he was on his way out of town for a couple of days. I believe his aunt is ill,” Nikki said. Oh boy, was it getting deep in here or what? And, she was getting the feeling that Kingston wasn’t buying it.
Kingston brought his chair in closer to his desk and placed his hands out in front of him. “Georges had a daughter. She is the beneficiary of not only his royalties, but his estate, which is worth twenty million dollars.
Nikki swallowed hard. Holy cow. “He had a daughter?”
“He was worth twenty mil?” Simon asked.
“Yes. The daughter’s name is Jane Creswell, and I’ve been trying to get a hold of her since this morning. Apparently she has a new cell phone number. She used to work for Georges, so I’m sure I’ll track her down in a day or two. I figured if she knows by the end of the day, then what does it hurt for Malveaux to know? But, I’d like to get a hold of the girl first. There are some complications involved.”
“Complications?” Nikki asked.
“Yes. The girl does not know that she is Georges’ daughter, but that’s really all I can say for now. I’ll be in touch with you or Mr. Malveaux directly in the next couple of days after I reach Ms. Creswell.”
“Of course, and thank you for your time and help.” Nikki and Simon stood, shook Kingston’s hand again, and left his office.
Neither said a word until they got into the elevator, where they let out a relieved sigh. “Wow,” Nikki said.
“Wow? Wow? Like I’m sweating like a pig. I so didn’t think he was buying it, and then he coughed up like a man having his fingernails being torn off.”
“He sure did. He must have bought it. You know what this means, don’t you?”
“No, Goldilocks, but something tells me, it ain’t good.”
“Oh but it is. Maybe Rick Moran and Henry Bloomenfeld were stealing money from Georges. Kingston just told us that Bloomenfeld had been skimming Georges’ royalties.” She then told Simon about following Moran to the airport and the suitcase filled with cash. “And, I saw Bloomenfeld the other night with Moran.” She failed to tell Simon exactly where she saw them. “One of them might have gotten scared, because maybe Georges was on to them? Maybe Moran was moving the money around and hiding it and Bloomenfeld was in on it with him. Bloomenfeld had plenty of reason to be angry at Georges. He fired him just as his career was taking off. Moran might simply be greedy, and Bloomenfeld has been using him as a tool to continue to hang on to the goose with the golden egg.”
Simon nodded. “If anyone should have been angry it should have been Georges. Bloomenfeld is a thief. Of course, Georges should have canned him and the jerk should have expected that.”
“You’re right and rational people get that, Simon. But a criminal like Bloomenfeld does not. To Bloomenfeld, Georges’ termination of him gave him a motive to continue stealing through a partnership with the financial advisor. And maybe it also gave him a motive to kill. Moran would have had to help him because he still had access to Georges. They could have been in on it together.”
“Nikki, this thing is getting ugly. I think maybe you should tell Dick Robinson.”
“Maybe you’re right.” It was the last thing she wanted to do. Jonah Robinson had it in for her. She took her cell phone from her purse and toyed with the idea of calling the detective. She saw that she had a message and checked it. It was from Alyssa. She flipped shut her phone and looked at Simon. “I’ll call the police, really I will. But first we have one more stop.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Relax. It’ll be fine. Get my purse.”
“Why?”
“There’s a handful of dollar bills in my wallet and you’re gonna need them.”
Chapter 21
“A strip bar? No way. Okay, first I had to play your assistant . . . which, I might add, I should have gotten an Academy Award for.”
“Okay, Academy Award, what? Maybe, but what was with telling Kingston that Derek wanted to hire him as his agent?”
“That saved the deal, Goldilocks, and you know it. The old stiff wasn’t going to tell us anything, unless I sweetened the deal.”
Nikki rolled her eyes.
“No comeback? That’s because you know I’m right. And this is the gratitude I get? I take you shopping. I play Hudson to your Day, and honey you are a hell of an actress. I don’t know if I’ll ever believe a word you say after the performance I just witnessed. But now, you want me to go in there with you and pretend I’m a straight guy and put dollar bills in women’s G-strings? You know about my nakedness phobia.”
“They wear bikinis. They’re not even topless. You ca
n play a straight guy.” Nikki winked at him.
“Excuse me? I can play straight about as well as Liberace.”
She got out of the car and went to the passenger side. Simon locked it. She pressed her keychain and unlocked it. They played that game for a minute, until she grabbed the door before he could lock it again, took him by the sleeve, and dragged him out of the car. “Okay, deal. You do this with me, we go back to the mall and I buy you the shirt you wanted.”
“The cigar shirt? Ooh, I would look so fifties bad boy in that.” He yanked his arm from her grasp. “Fine. But couldn’t this place at least be in the nice part of town?”
“It’s a strip bar, Simon.”
Nikki kept her dark glasses on, in case Bloomenfeld or Moran was inside. There were a few men and they all took note of her when she came in with Simon. She leaned in and whispered, “We’re dating if anyone asks, and we like to spice things up sometimes. That’s why we’re here.”
Simon gave her a dirty look. They sat down in a cushy, torn, faux velvet booth. Nikki scooted close to Simon. “Put your arm around me.” He did. Nikki scanned the place looking for Alyssa. She hadn’t spotted her yet.
“Why are we here again?”
“I told you. One of the dancers has some information for me about Bloomenfeld and Moran.”
“You know, you’re like Nancy Drew gone to seed. It’s plain wrong.”
“Shut up and order a drink.” A waitress came over and Simon ordered an appletini.
The waitress gave him a funny look. Nikki nudged him under the table. “Uh sir, we don’t do those here,” the waitress said.
Simon waved his hand. Nikki nudged him again. “Fine. I’ll have a Cosmopolitan then.”
The waitress jotted it down. Nikki ordered beer on tap. She faced Simon. “Hello, you are supposed to be straight.”
Silenced By Syrah Page 17
