“Matthew, I need your help,” began William as he put Alan’s letter back into its envelope.
“You’ve had a letter from my sister and she thinks you’ll do as a replacement for Rudolph Valentine.”
William stood up. “Quit kidding, Matthew. If your father’s bank were being robbed, would you sit around making jokes about it?”
The expression on William’s face was unmistakably serious. Matthew’s tone changed. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“Right. Then let’s get out of here and I’ll explain everything.”
Anne left Beacon Hill a little after ten to do some shopping before going on to her final meeting with Glen Ricardo. The telephone started to ring as she disappeared down Chestnut Street. The maid answered it, looked out the window and decided that her mistress was too far away to be pursued. If Anne had returned to take the call she would have been informed of City Hall’s decision on the hospital contract; instead she bought some silk stockings and tried out a new perfume. She arrived at Glen Ricardo’s office a little after twelve, hoping the new perfume might counter the smell of cigar smoke.
“I hope I’m not late, Mr. Ricardo,” she began briskly.
“Have a seat, Mrs. Osborne.” Ricardo did not look particularly cheerful, but, thought Anne to herself, he never does. Then she noticed that he was not smoking his usual cigar.
Glen Ricardo opened a smart brown file, the only new thing Anne could see in the office, and unclipped some papers.
“Let’s start with the anonymous letters, shall we, Mrs. Osborne?”
Anne did not like the tone of his voice at all. “Yes, all right,” she managed to get out.
“They are being sent by a Mrs. Ruby Flowers.”
“Who? Why?” said Anne, impatient for an answer she did not want to hear.
“I suspect one of the reasons is that Mrs. Flowers is at present suing your husband.”
“Well, that explains the whole mystery,” said Anne. “She must want revenge. How much does she claim Henry owes her?”
“She is not suggesting debt, Mrs. Osborne.”
“Well, what is she suggesting then?”
Glen Ricardo pushed himself up from the chair, as if the movement required the full strength of both his arms to raise his tired frame. He walked to the window and looked out over the crowded Boston harbor.
“She is suing for a breach of promise, Mrs. Osborne.”
“Oh, no,” said Anne.
“It appears that they were engaged to be married at the time that Mr. Osborne met you, when the engagement was suddenly terminated for no apparent reason.”
“Gold digger. She must have wanted Henry’s money.”
“No, I don’t think so. You see, Mrs. Flowers is already well off. Not in your class, of course, but well off all the same. Her late husband owned a soft-drink-bottling company and left her financially secure.”
“Her late husband—how old is she?”
The detective walked back to the table and flicked over a page or two of his file before his thumb started moving down the page. The black nail came to a halt.
“She’ll be fifty-three on her next birthday.”
“Oh, my God!” said Anne: “The poor woman. She must hate me.”
“I dare say she does, Mrs. Osborne, but that will not help us. Now I must turn to your husband’s other activities.”
The nicotine-stained finger turned over some more pages.
Anne began to feel sick. Why had she come, why hadn’t she left well enough alone last week? She didn’t have to know. She didn’t want to know. Why didn’t she get up and walk away? How she wished Richard were by her side. He would have known exactly how to deal with the whole situation. She found herself unable to move, transfixed by Glen Ricardo and the contents of his smart new file.
“On two occasions last week Mr. Osborne spent over three hours alone with Mrs. Preston.”
“But that doesn’t prove anything,” began Anne desperately. “I know they were discussing a very important financial document.”
“In a small hotel on La Salle Street.”
Anne didn’t interrupt the detective again.
“On both occasions they were seen walking into the hotel, holding hands, whispering and laughing. It’s not conclusive, of course, but we have photographs of them together entering and leaving the hotel.”
“Destroy them,” Anne said quietly.
Glen Ricardo blinked. “As you wish, Mrs. Osborne. I’m afraid there is more. Further inquiries show that Mr. Osborne was never at Harvard, nor was he an officer in the American Armed Forces. There was a Henry Osborne at Harvard who was five foot five, sandy-haired and came from Alabama. He was killed on the Maine in 1917. We also know that your husband is considerably younger than he claims to be and that his real name is Vittorio Togna, and he has served——”
“I don’t want to hear any more,” said Anne, tears flooding down her cheeks. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
“Of course, Mrs. Osborne, I understand. I am only sorry that my news is so distressing. In my job sometimes——”
Anne fought for a measure of self-control. “Thank you, Mr. Ricardo, I appreciate all you have done. How much do I owe you?”
“Well, you have already paid for the two weeks in advance. There are two additional days and my expenses came to seventy-three dollars.”
Anne passed him a hundred-dollar bill and rose from her chair.
“Don’t forget your change, Mrs. Osborne.”
She shook her head and waved a disinterested hand.
“Are you feeling all right, Mrs. Osborne? You look a little pale. Can I get you a glass of water or something?”
“I’m fine,” lied Anne.
“Perhaps you would allow me to drive you home?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Ricardo, I’ll be able to get myself home.” She turned and smiled at him. “It is kind of you to offer.”
Glen Ricardo closed the door quietly behind his client, walked slowly to the window, bit the end off his last big cigar, spat it out and cursed his job.
Anne paused at the top of the littered stairs, clinging to the banister, almost fainting. The baby kicked inside her, making her feel nauseous. She found a cab on the corner of the block and huddled into the back; she was unable to stop herself from sobbing, to think what to do next. As soon as she was dropped back at the Red House, she went to her bedroom before any of the staff could see her distress. The telephone was ringing as she entered the room and she picked it up, more out of habit than from any curiosity about who it might be.
“Could I speak to Mrs. Kane, please?”
She recognized Alan’s clipped tone at once. Another tired, unhappy voice.
“Hello, Alan. This is Anne.”
“Anne, my dear, I was sorry to learn about this morning’s news.”
“How do you know about it, Alan? How can you possibly know? Who told you?”
“City Hall phoned me and gave me the details soon after ten this morning. I tried to call you then, but your maid said you had already left to do some shopping.”
“Oh, my God,” said Anne, “I had quite forgotten about the contract.” She sat down heavily, unable to breathe freely.
“Are you all right, Anne?”
“Yes, I’m just fine,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to hide the sobbing in her voice. “What did City Hall have to say?”
“The hospital contract was awarded to a firm called Kirkbride and Carter. Apparently Henry wasn’t even placed in the top three. I’ve been trying to reach him all morning, but it seems he left his office soon after ten and he hasn’t been back since. I don’t suppose you know where he is, Anne?”
“No, I haven’t any idea.”
“Do you want me to come around, my dear?” he said. “I could be with you in a few minutes.”
“No, thank you, Alan.” Anne paused to draw a shaky breath. “Please forgive me for the way I have been treating you these past few days. If Richard were still alive,
he would never forgive me.”
“Don’t be silly, Anne. Our friendship has lasted for far too many years for an incident like that to be of any significance.”
The kindness of his voice triggered off a fresh burst of weeping. Anne staggered to her feet.
“I must go, Alan. I can hear someone at the front door—it may be Henry.”
“Take care, Anne, and don’t worry about today. As long as I’m chairman, the bank will always support you. Don’t hesitate to call if you need me.”
Anne put the telephone down, the noise thudding in her ears. The effort of breathing was stupendous. She sank to the floor and as she did so, the long-forgotten sensation of a vigorous contraction overwhelmed her.
A few moments later the maid knocked quietly on the door. She looked in; William was at her shoulder. He had not entered his mother’s bedroom since her marriage to Henry Osborne. The two rushed to Anne’s side. She was shaking convulsively, unaware of their presence. Little flecks of foam spattered her upper lip. In a few seconds the attack passed and she lay moaning quietly.
“Mother,” William said urgently, “what’s the matter?”
Anne opened her eyes and stared wildly at her son. “Richard. Thank God you’ve come. I need you.”
“It’s William, Mother.”
Her gaze faltered. “I have no more strength left, Richard. I must pay for my mistake. Forgive—”
Her voice trailed off to a groan as another powerful contraction started.
“What’s happening?” said William helplessly.
“I think it must be the baby coming,” the maid said. “Though it isn’t due for several weeks.”
“Get Dr. MacKenzie on the phone immediately,” said William to the maid as he ran to the bedroom door. “Matthew!” he shouted. “Come up quickly.”
Matthew bounded up the stairs and joined William in the bedroom.
“Help me get my mother down to the car.”
Matthew knelt down. The two boys picked Anne up and carried her gently downstairs and out to the car. She was panting and groaning and obviously still in immense pain. William ran back to the house and grabbed the phone from the maid while Matthew waited in the car.
“Dr. MacKenzie.”
“Yes, who’s this?”
“My name is William Kane—you won’t know me, sir.”
“Don’t know you, young man? I delivered you. What can I do for you now?”
“I think my mother is in labor. I am bringing her to the hospital immediately. I should be there in a few minutes’ time.”
Dr. MacKenzie’s tone changed. “All right, William, don’t worry. I’ll be here waiting for you and everything will be under control by the time you arrive.”
“Thank you, sir.” William hesitated. “She seemed to have some sort of a fit. Is that normal?”
William’s words chilled the doctor. He too hesitated.
“Well, not quite normal. But she’ll be all right once she’s had the baby. Get here as quickly as you can.”
William put down the phone, ran out of the house and jumped into the Rolls-Royce.
Matthew drove the car in fits and starts, never once getting out of first gear and never stopping for anything until they had reached the hospital. The two boys carried Anne, and a nurse with a stretcher quickly guided them through to the maternity section. Dr. MacKenzie was standing at the entrance of an operating room, waiting. He took over and asked them both to remain outside.
William and Matthew sat in silence on the small bench and waited. Frightening cries and screams, unlike any sound they had ever heard anyone make, came from the delivery room—to be succeeded by an even more frightening silence. For the first time in his life William felt totally helpless. The two boys sat on the bench for over an hour, no word passing between them. Eventually a tired Dr. MacKenzie emerged. The two boys rose and the doctor looked at Matthew Lester.
“William?” he asked.
“No, sir, I am Matthew Lester. This is William.”
The doctor turned and put a hand on William’s shoulder. “William, I’m so sorry. Your mother died a few minutes ago … . and the child, a little girl, was stillborn.”
William’s legs gave way as he sank onto the bench.
“We did everything in our power to save them, but it was too late.” He shook his head wearily. “She wouldn’t listen to me—she insisted on having the baby. It should never have happened.”
William sat first in silence, stunned by the whiplash sound of the words. Then he whispered, “How could she die? How could you let her die?”
The doctor sat down on the bench between the boys. “She wouldn’t listen,” he repeated slowly. “I warned her repeatedly after her miscarriage not to have another child, but when she married again, she and your stepfather never took my warnings seriously. She had high blood pressure during her last pregnancy. It was worrying me during this one, but it was never near danger level. But when you brought her in today, for no apparent reason it had soared to the level where eclampsia ensues.”
“Eclampsia?”
“Convulsions. Sometimes patients can survive several attacks. Sometimes they simply—stop breathing.”
William drew a shuddering breath and let his head fall into his hands. Matthew Lester guided his friend gently along the corridor. The doctor followed them. When they reached the elevator, he looked at William.
“Her blood pressure went up so suddenly. It’s very unusual and she didn’t put up a real fight, almost as if she didn’t care. Strange—had something been troubling her lately?”
William raised his tear-streaked face. “Not something,” he said with hatred. “Someone.”
Alan Lloyd was sitting in a corner of the drawing room when the two boys arrived back at the Red House. He rose as they entered.
“William,” he said immediately. “I blame myself for authorizing the loan.”
William stared at him, not taking in what he was saying.
Matthew Lester stepped into the silence. “I don’t think that’s important any longer, sir,” he said quietly. “William’s mother has just died in childbirth.”
Alan Lloyd turned ashen, steadied himself by grasping the mantelpiece and turned away. It was the first time that either of them had seen a grown man weep.
“It’s my fault,” said the banker. “I’ll never forgive myself. I didn’t tell her everything I knew. I loved her so much that I never wanted her to be distressed.”
His anguish enabled William to be calm.
“It certainly was not your fault, Alan,” he said firmly. “You did everything you could, I know that, and now it’s I who am going to need your help.”
Alan Lloyd braced himself. “Has Osborne been informed about your mother’s death?”
“I neither know nor care.”
“I’ve been trying to reach him all day about the investment. He left his office soon after ten this morning and he hasn’t been seen since.”
“He’ll turn up here sooner or later,” William said grimly.
After Alan Lloyd had left, William and Matthew sat alone in the front room for most of the night, dozing off and on. At four o’clock in the morning, as William counted the chimes of the grandfather clock, he thought he heard a noise in the street. Matthew was staring out of the window down the drive. William walked stiffly over to join him. They both watched Henry Osborne stagger across Louisburg Square, a bottle in his hand. He fumbled with some keys for some time and finally appeared in the doorway to the front room, blinking dazedly at the two boys.
“I want Anne, not you. Why aren’t you at school? I don’t want you,” he said, his voice thick and slurred, as he tried to push William aside. “Where’s Anne?”
“My mother is dead,” said William quietly.
Henry Osborne looked at him stupidly for a few seconds. The incomprehension of his gaze snapped William’s self-control.
“Where were you when she needed a husband?” he shouted.
Still Osborn
e stood, swaying slightly. “What about the baby?”
“Stillborn, a little girl.”
Henry Osborne slumped into a chair, drunken tears starting to run down his face. “She lost my little baby?”
William was nearly incoherent with rage and grief. “Your baby? Stop thinking about yourself for once,” he shouted. “You know Dr. MacKenzie advised her against becoming pregnant again.”
“Expert in that as well, are we, like everything else? If you had minded your own fucking business, I could have taken care of my own wife without your interference.”
“And her money, it seems.”
“Money. You tightfisted little bastard, I bet losing that hurts you more than anything else.”
“Get up!” William said between his teeth.
Henry Osborne pushed himself up and smashed the bottle across the corner of the chair. Whiskey splashed over the carpet. He swayed toward William, the broken bottle in his raised hand. William stood his ground while Matthew came between them and easily removed the bottle from the drunken man’s grasp.
William pushed his friend aside and advanced until his face was only inches away from Henry Osborne’s.
“Now, you listen to me and listen carefully. I want you out of this house in one hour. If I ever hear from you again in my life, I shall instigate a full legal investigation into what has happened to my mother’s half-million-dollar investment in your firm, and I shall reopen my research into who you really are and your past in Chicago. If on the other hand, I do not hear from you again, ever, I shall consider the ledger balanced and the matter closed. Now get out before I kill you.”
The two boys watched him leave, sobbing, incoherent and furious.
The next morning William paid a visit to the bank. He was shown immediately into the chairman’s office. Alan Lloyd was packing some documents into a briefcase. He looked up and handed a piece of paper to William without speaking. It was a short letter to all board members tendering his resignation as chairman of the bank.
Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune Page 17
