FALSE PRETENSES

by Catherine Coulter

  “Catherine,” she said, slowly rising from her chair.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Elizabeth.”

  Good God, what was going on? Catherine sounded absolutely benign.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m beginning to think you didn’t kill my father.”

  Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Well, that’s something. Intelligence and objectivity in a Carleton.”

  “I suppose I deserve that. But I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

  “Well?”

  “The photos of Brad and that other man.”

  Elizabeth became very still. Finally she said, “ However did you find out about that mess?”

  “By accident. I also saw the photos of Brad and Jennifer Henkle. Brad told me it was all blackmail and you were the one who started it off.”

  “True. I was an arrogant fool and I was awfully wrong.”

  “But then you backed off. Why?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “It’s not too difficult to come to a sane conclusion, Catherine. Your grandmother told me quite clearly, not in person, of course, that if I didn’t back off, she’d have the photos of your brother and Jennifer Henkle all over the media. You must know that I have nothing at all against the Henkle girl. However, the thought of her still marrying Brad turns my stomach.”

  “It turns Brad’s too,” said Catherine.

  “But he’ll go through with it, won’t he, Catherine?”

  “Yes. It’s funny, you know, but I always thought Brad was the strong one among the three of us. But he’s not. He’s scared. He’ll do as he’s told.”

  “And what about you, Catherine? Why are you really here?”

  Elizabeth realized suddenly that the two of them were standing in the middle of her office, squared off like opponents in the boxing ring.

  She waved her hand toward a sofa. “Oh, sit down, Catherine. Do.”

  “I want to know if you can stop it, Elizabeth.”

  “I? Look, Catherine, I’ve done my bit. It backfired, like a lot of other things I’ve done. Some because your family got the better of me, and most because I’m so ignorant.”

  “You sent those photos of Brad to Senator Henkle as revenge?”

  “No, as leverage against your brother. He hasn’t endeared himself to me, Catherine. None of you have, but Brad was a major thorn in my side—and still is, occasionally.”

  “Who killed my father, Elizabeth?”

  “If I knew that, don’t you think I’d do something about it? God, you’re a fool, Catherine. Listen, I truly am sorry about all this, particularly about poor Jennifer Henkle, but your grandmother will have her way. You know it. I know it. Now, if there’s nothing else . . .”

  Catherine sighed. “No, I guess not. It was stupid of me to come here. I know there’s nothing you can do, and why should you?”

  “Life could be simpler, that’s for sure,” Elizabeth said. “Instead, things seem to multiply, blurring issues, turning enemies into noncombatants if not allies.” Elizabeth dashed her fingers through her hair, loosening the chignon. “Oh, Catherine, I’ll try to think of something, but I can almost guarantee you that anything I came up with wouldn’t work. Why don’t you confront your grandmother?”

  “I wanted to but I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t blame you, but think about it.”

  “I suppose you know I was seeing Christian Hunter.”

  “Yes.”

  “And Rowe Chalmers.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Most of the time, I don’t either.”

  Millicent Stacy appeared in the doorway. “There’s an urgent call for you, Elizabeth.”

  “Thank you for talking to me, Elizabeth. I know I’ve acted a bitch toward you—”

  “Yes, but not anymore, I trust. You’ve surprised me more than I can say. I will try to think of something. Good-bye, Catherine, and good luck.”

  Elizabeth waited until Catherine had left her office. She stared thoughtfully after her, then shook her head, bemused. Nothing ever stayed the same, and if it did, it was usually the bad things, the awful things. Catherine coming around? Catherine being nice? It was almost too much to take in. She’d forced herself not to think about Jennifer Henkle. Now the senator’s daughter was back with a vengeance. What could she do? She was a fool to have promised Catherine that she’d try to come up with a solution.

  She walked back to her desk and picked up the phone. “Yes? Elizabeth Carleton.”

  “Hi, Liz. Jonathan Harley.”

  Liz? “Yes?” Her voice was as forbidding as she could make it.

  “I think it’s time, dear lady, that you and I got together again.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Let me put it this way: you’ve got to see me. If you refuse, you’ll be very upset with yourself.”

  “Then tell me, now.”

  “Nope. In person. I’ll see you at your Mexican restaurant this evening. Seven okay by you?”

  Elizabeth frowned at the phone. What did the damned man want now?

  “Oh, very well. But, Mr. Harley, this had better be good.”

  There was a slight pause; then, “You can count on it, Liz. I promise you that.”

  “Don’t call me Liz.”

  “At least I’m calling you. That should count for something.”

  “Don’t push your luck, Mr. Harley. This evening at seven.”

  “You got it, kiddo.”

  There was a click in her ear. What was he up to? What she’d said to Catherine was right: every time she tried to simplify things, those things just got messier.

  Jonathan Harley was waiting for her. He wasn’t wearing a suit this time. He was casually dressed in brown cords and a light brown turtleneck sweater, with a tweed sport coat. He looked like a businessman on vacation, a handsome jock businessman.

  He smiled up at her when she reached the table, but didn’t rise. “Hello there,” he said, and waved an expansive hand to the chair opposite him.

  The waiter pulled her chair back for her.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of this place? Haven’t you found another safe house?”

  She shook her head.

  “You can’t keep hiding forever, Elizabeth.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You want to try for a higher-level drunk tonight?”

  “I was rather hoping that your plane wouldn’t make it. Dining alone has its benefits, you know.”

  “Come now, Elizabeth, I didn’t take you to bed. I left your virtue intact. Nary a whimper out of me.” She looked tired, he thought, and preoccupied. Worried. Well, he was going to set the seal on her evening. He hoped he would feel better about it. Still, he probably would be dancing on the table, grinning in her face by the time he was through.

  “Cut the garbage, Mr. Harley.” She turned to the hovering waiter and ordered a Perrier.

  Jonathan nodded in agreement.

  “You’re not trying for much of a drunk with the Perrier, Mr. Harley.”

  “It’s still a celebration drink, Elizabeth.”

  “You’ve discovered I have a terminal illness?”

  “No, your insides as well as your outsides are well-nigh perfect. In perfect condition, that is.”

  She said nothing.

  “I’ve thought about you quite a bit. In fact, I thought about you when I was making love to other women. It was very disconcerting.”

  She just gave him a weary look, refusing to rise to the bait.

  “You’re a barrel of laughs this evening, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m tired and hassled and I’m a complete bore. Now, what is it you want?”

  He started to tell her, to see the shock on her face, but he decided to hold off. “What’s happened,” he asked abruptly, “since the last time I saw you?”

  The Perriers arrived. Elizabeth raised her glass, only to be forestalled by Jonathan.

  “A toast, Elizabeth.”

&n
bsp; “What sort of toast?”

  He frowned, biting back the words. Finally he said, his voice light, mocking, “To the future.”

  “Innocuous enough.” She touched her glass to his, then sipped from it, half-wishing that she’d ordered a margarita. At least the tequila would hit her now, and make the world fade just a bit, blur it around the edges.

  “Is it possible that you’ve missed me? That when you’ve made love with other men, you’ve thought of me?”

  “Please, Mr. Harley,” she said.

  “What the hell is the matter?”

  He sounded angry, and she cocked her head to one side, staring at him. His eyes were narrowed, his lips a thin line.

  “All right. One of the major things is the sacrifice of a young woman. And it can’t be stopped. There’s nothing I can do, and it stinks.”

  “Tell me.”

  “No. Even if I trusted you, you could do nothing. Indeed, how could you even care?”

  “Don’t you trust anybody?”

  “No. People do learn, even me.”

  The waiter came again and they ordered dinner.

  “It would seem to me,” Jonathan said after the waiter had left, “that you’ve the power to accomplish most things.”

  “Yes, most things. That’s true, I suppose.”

  “You know, Elizabeth,” he said after a moment, “perhaps in the future you could trust me.”

  “Come now, Mr. Harley, hatred doesn’t change overnight, you know.” But Catherine had changed, at least she appeared to have changed. Elizabeth wondered now if everything Catherine had said and done had been an act. No, at least her upset over Brad and Jennifer wasn’t an act.

  “It has, but not overnight, that’s true.”

  “Please, I’m very tired, and I’m really not up to sparring with you. Just tell me what you want.”

  “All right,” he said, suppressing a sigh. “I will.” But he couldn’t, not just yet. Talk about hatred. She would want to kill him.

  Dinner arrived. They were silent for some minutes.

  “The weather’s nice,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “I think the Knicks are going to do great again. Don’t you?”

  Elizabeth carefully laid down her fork. “I’m walking out of here in ten minutes, Mr. Harley.”

  “Well, you won’t walk out empty-handed, Elizabeth.”

  “What will you give me? An epidemic? A virus?”

  “I still have a while before my loan is due.”

  She just looked at him, waiting.

  He laid down his fork and sat forward. “I’ll meet you and your staff and lawyers, I suppose, tomorrow morning in your office at ten o’clock.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a check for you, of course.” He forked down a big bite, grinning at her. Her expression didn’t change. She just became very still.

  “Little girls shouldn’t play in the big league,” he said, wanting now to hear her yell, curse him. “You couldn’t win, Elizabeth, even with all of ACI’s resources behind you.”

  She still said nothing.

  “You could do just as you pleased with your poor husband, but not with me, Elizabeth. Incidentally, I’ll have my lawyer with me tomorrow. You won’t keep me waiting, will you?”

  Damn her, why wouldn’t she say something? Spit at him, try for a groin kick?

  “You know,” he continued after a dead-silent moment, “you’re not bad, for a woman. Maybe with, say, ten more years’ practice, you could be nearly as good as I was ten years ago. But it’s your hormones, Lizzie, they make you emotional. You can’t think as clearly as a man. As I said, you couldn’t beat me.”

  Still she remained silent. Didn’t she want to know how he had gotten the money? Couldn’t she at least flay him verbally for his baiting remarks?

  Finally she said very quietly, “I suppose you’re right, Mr. Harley.”

  She very carefully drank the rest of her Perrier. She very carefully set the empty glass back on the table. She picked up her purse from the floor beside her and rose. She looked at him, then turned away and walked out of the restaurant.

  Jonathan Harley cursed.

  20

  Jonathan walked into Elizabeth’s office the following morning, precisely at ten o’clock, flanked by his lawyer, Josh Simpson. They’d gone to Yale together and Josh had been his opponent in the chess tournament senior year. He wished he could mention that to Elizabeth when he introduced them, but of course he couldn’t.

  Elizabeth was seated at the circular conference table with Adrian Marsh, Coy Siverston, and Rod Samuels.

  “Good morning, Elizabeth, gentlemen,” Jonathan said, his eyes never leaving her face. She was pale, he could see the strain in her eyes, but she was completely composed.

  “Mr. Harley,” Elizabeth said, nodding toward two empty chairs.

  Jonathan introduced Josh.

  “Now,” he said, “I don’t see any need for amenities this morning. I suppose Elizabeth told you why I’m here.”

  Adrian shook his head. “No, Mr. Harley, she didn’t. Is it about an extension to your loan?”

  Jonathan looked at Elizabeth, but she said nothing. “No,” he said sharply, “I’m here to pay the loan off. Mr. Marsh, if you would please have your people compute what you think the balance is, we’ll do a quick comparison and Josh here will go to our bank and get you a cashier’s check.”

  There was no sound for many moments. Jonathan felt pleasure at their stunned expressions.

  Coy said finally, “Do you mind me asking how you managed it, Mr. Harley?”

  “You guys didn’t think of Europe. And the guy you had tailing me never got close enough to notice that the man I’d hired to go through my routine for several days wasn’t me. Even though I’m a small fish in the ocean compared to ACI, I do have contacts in Europe and some power. Easy, really.” He didn’t add that he’d gotten quite a bit of help from his ex-father-in-law, Andrew Pillson. “Besides,” he added, “I hadn’t been to Europe in several years. I wanted to rest a bit, along with the business.”

  Elizabeth said, “I have already had the loan balance computed, Mr. Harley. You may now check it with your computations.”

  She pulled out several sheets of paper from her briefcase and handed them to Jonathan.

  The balance was the same as his. Of course. What had he expected?

  He nodded to Josh. The four of them sat in grim silence around the table after Josh had left. Jonathan said, “Will you gentlemen please take a hike for, say, ten minutes?”

  Adrian’s eyes flew to Elizabeth’s face. She nodded.

  Once alone, Jonathan said, “What’s wrong with you?”

  She merely shook her head.

  “Dammit, woman, you’re a fighter! You’re letting me walk on you like a dumb rug. What the hell happened?”

  Elizabeth gave him a small smile. “What would you have me do, Mr. Harley? You won, you’ve told me that very clearly.”

  “Call me names.”

  “All right. You’ve proved yourself brilliant. Obviously a leader in cunning and survival, a risk-taker. I hope you rot.”

  He rose to his feet and began pacing her office. “I straightened out my union problems,” he said, frowning at her.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “But you wanted them straightened out, didn’t you, for your own profit?”

  “Certainly. Even we unstable, emotional women can do some things right, you know.”

  He stood there staring at her. Her back was to him, her head slightly bowed. He saw the nape of her neck and wanted to touch her. It occurred to him that there was no reason for him ever to see her again. “ Elizabeth,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “Damn you, stand up and face me.”

  She did. “Yes, Mr. Harley?”

  “Tell me you’re not sleeping with Hunter for what he did for you.”

  That drew her out of her numb shell. He’d won, for God’s sake. Right between the eyes, he’d f
ired straight-on. And now he was angry at her, and she simply didn’t understand him. She was his enemy, wasn’t she? And now, now he was the victor. Was this another way of rubbing her nose in it? She tilted back her head.

  “Why, of course I sleep with Dr. Hunter. After all, since he saved me from life imprisonment, isn’t he entitled to some consideration? He’s really quite good. Sometimes, though, it’s difficult . . . so many of my lovers are quite talented, really. But Christian ranks right up there with the best, and—”

  He grabbed her and kissed her, hard.

  “You’re a pathetic liar,” he said, lifting his face, shaking her shoulders.

  She tried to shrug, but it was impossible, he was holding her too tightly. She merely shook her head, trying to look bored.

  He kissed her again. She did not respond, merely suffered him until he stepped away from her.

  “A victory celebration of a manly sort, Mr. Harley?” she asked calmly, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. “To show the little woman what she’s worth? Polish off your little triumph with a show of male dominance and force my submission? With that performance I doubt you’d even make it to the ranking scale with my other lovers.”

  To her utter astonishment, he raked his fingers through his hair and said, “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I—”

  There was a knock on the office door.

  Just as well, Elizabeth thought, vaguely disconcerted. “Come in,” she called out.

  It was Adrian and Coy.

  “Gentlemen,” she said, forcing a ghastly smile. “If you two will please finish things up here with Mr. Harley, talk about baseball and all that sort of thing. I have an urgent meeting.”

  She turned back to Jonathan and saw a smudge of her lipstick on his mouth. She wondered if Adrian and Coy would notice it.

  “Mr. Harley,” she said, turned on her heel, and left the office.

  There was no baseball talk.

  Adrian saw the lipstick and wondered what the hell was going on. Coy was thinking only of that damned cashier’s check and Harley’s charade.

  Elizabeth sat alone at home. It was midafternoon and she could hear Kogi moving about in the kitchen. Oh, yes, she remembered that Christian was coming to dinner. Her lover. One of her many lovers. She wished she could laugh.