Deception (11 page)

She hesitated but only briefly. “This evening. I didn’t want to run the risk of having to cut my meeting short, so I booked a later flight.” There was no reason to tell him, or anyone at B&A, any more than that.

“Let us know how it went as soon as you get a chance.”

“All right. Just don’t pop the Dom Perignon without me, will you?”

Philip laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She was sliding the drawings into a tube when her secretary rang her on the intercom. “Your taxi is here, Jill.”

“Thanks, Cathie. Tell the driver I’ll be right down.”

The tube in one hand and her purse slung over her shoulder, Jill said a hasty goodbye to Philip, who gave her the thumbs-up sign, and was off.

Except for a couple slouched in the front row and the two actors on the brilliantly lit stage, the Aquarius Theater on Forty-third Street was empty.

The male actor, a short, portly man in a goatee, was reading from a script, while Lilly Grant, the star of One Night In Paris, delivered her lines from memory and with great panache. She wore comfortable pants in a muted shade of brown and a cream blouse. Her brown hair was gathered on top of her head in a rather unruly knot—a la Katharine Hepburn. It was a look she had been perfecting for years and it suited her to a tee.

Amanda Bennett’s sister had always been one of Dan’s favorite people. Broadway’s most legendary leading lady for almost forty years, she hadn’t let fame and fortune go to her head, and while acting was an integral part of her, and one never really knew when she wasn’t acting, she was warm, funny and undeniably charming.

Hands in his pockets, Dan walked quietly down the aisle. At the fourth row, he took a seat and leaned back, smiling as the woman on the stage struck a theatrical pose.

“How low of you, Harland,” she said in that same deep, compelling voice that had delighted audiences for the past four decades. “How despicably low and cowardly of you to remind me of my failings. Have I not suffered enough? Repented enough?”

“Harland” took a puff of his cigar and let out a small snort. “Repent? You? My dear Finiola, I don’t think you even know the meaning of the word.” As he took another puff, he was suddenly overcome by a raging coughing spell.

In the front row, the man Dan assumed was the director threw his script in the air and jumped out of his seat. “Jesus Christ, Michael,” he bellowed. “What the hell is it now? First you screw up your lines, then you knock down the props, and now this. Are we ever going to get through this scene without an interruption? This is a Broadway play, people, not a kindergarten production. And in case you forgot, we open in three weeks.”

“It’s this damn cigar.” The actor threw the culprit on the floor and stomped on it like a spoiled child. “I told you I can’t stomach this domestic stuff. Get me something decent, will you? Like a Havana.”

“Havanas are illegal, Michael.”

“I don’t give a shit. Get them.” His head held high, Michael stormed off the stage.

“Michael, come back here.” The director and his assistant hurried after him. “You know the play can’t go on without you.”

Lilly Grant, never one to miss a grand moment, placed a hand on her hip as her gaze followed the disappearing trio. “The show can’t go on without him? What am I? Chopped liver? Wasn’t my performance good enough to warrant even one compliment?”

Rising from his seat, Dan began clapping, slowly at first, then with more vigor as he made his way toward the stage. “You were magnificent, Miss Grant, superb, scintillating. Bravo!”

Obviously pleased, Lilly Grant squinted toward the dark theater. “Thank you, young man.” The exasperation was gone from her voice but not the drama. “Come up here, will you?” She waved him closer. “Your voice sounds familiar. Have we met?”

“Out of sight out of mind, Lilly?” Dan’s voice was gently teasing. “Shame on you. And you claimed to have such a crush on me.”

“Daniel?” Clear, seductive laughter cascaded from her lips like a bubbling brook. As Dan climbed the steps to the stage, Lilly’s hands flew to her mouth. “It is you.” “In the flesh, Lilly.”

Raising herself on tiptoe, she kissed him European style, on both cheeks. “Amanda told me you were in town.” Holding him at arm’s length, the actress gave him a long appraising look. “You scoundrel, you haven’t changed a bit. You’re still as handsome as ever.”

“And you’re still the most beautiful, most talented stage actress in the world.”

Lilly struck another theatrical pose. “Then, will you tell me why they have paired me with this whining, boring, second-rate performer who has the nerve to call himself an actor? The man never stops complaining, he has the personality of an old prune and about as much stage presence.”

Dan chuckled. Lilly had never been one to mince words.

Seductive again, she gazed at him beneath long, dark lashes. “How long have you been watching?”

“Long enough to want to see more.”

She had the grace to blush, another of the many tricks of the trade Lilly Grant had mastered over the years. Dan did some quick math. She had to be well over sixty, maybe closer to sixty-five, yet she was still considered one of the world’s great beauties. Petite and slender, she had the most extraordinary slanted green eyes, a thin but well-defined mouth and impossibly high cheekbones.

She gave him a coy look. “And you really thought I was good?”

Knowing how much she liked compliments, Dan bowed his head. “You were brilliant. I predict you’ll bring the house down on opening night.”

“From your lips to God’s ears.”

“Amanda told me you toured for almost four months.”

“Six cities in twelve weeks. Two hundred and sixteen performances.”

“And I bet every one of them got a standing ovation.”

She flashed him a dazzling smile. “The play, thank God, was an uncontested hit. Not only did we have standing ovations and packed houses, but the reviews were fabulous.” She laughed. “I even received three marriage proposals.”

“You were always a heartbreaker, Lilly.”

“Let’s go find a seat.” Lilly extended her hand to Dan so he could escort her off the stage. “You and I have some catching up to do, though I don’t know how much time we’ll have. Michael’s tantrums have been known to last anywhere between three minutes and three days.”

When they were seated in the front row, she turned toward him. “Amanda told me you came to New York to investigate Simon’s death.”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t think she’s too happy about it.”

“She made that abundantly clear.”

“I can’t say I blame her. To suddenly find out your husband may have been murdered must be rather unsettling.” Leaning back, she draped her left arm over the backrest. “But for my part, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t see you nearly as often as I’d like.” The famous green eyes glinted with amusement. “I’d love to hear what my lovely niece had to say when she saw you.”

Dan smiled. “She didn’t throw anything at me if that’s what you mean, though I have a feeling she may have wanted to.”

Lilly’s clear laughter echoed through the empty theater. “Well, you must have done something right to make her come around so quickly, and I’m glad. She may not show it, but her father’s death affected her greatly.”

“It couldn’t have been too easy for you, either, dealing with your sister’s grief and preparing for your Broadway opening”

“I was devastated,” Lilly said dramatically. “Oh, sure, Simon and I had our differences, but who doesn’t in a diversified family such as ours?”

“He wasn’t much of a theater fan, if I recall.”

“No.” A shadow seemed to pass over her beautiful features. “He thought that grown-ups standing on a stage pretending to be something they weren’t was hogwash. Still, he came to every one of my opening nights.”

“Were you touring when he died?”

“Thank God, no, I was already back in New York. Rehearsals had just begun.” Glancing toward the stage, she waved. “Luke, darling, come here. I want you to meet someone.”

As Luke approached, Dan stood up and Lilly made the introductions. “Luke, this is Dan Santini, formerly of the NYPD and one of my dearest friends. Dan, meet my talented director, Luke Mansfield. And this lovely lady here is his assistant, Lisa, who ought to be given a medal for putting up with all of us eighteen hours a day.”

The two men shook hands. “NYPD, huh?” Mansfield squinted at him. “What department did you work in?” “Homicide. I was a detective.”

“Not just a detective,” Lilly interjected, “but one of the best in the country. He’s the one who cracked the Barnaby case a few years ago.”

“The serial killer?” Mansfield seemed impressed.

“I wasn’t working alone,” Dan said, realizing how much he still hated the limelight. “Catching Barnaby was a team effort.”

“Knowing what I know about the man, you and your team have my deepest admiration. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go find some imported cigars before our temperamental leading man has another fit. Nice to’ve met you, Dan. Come and see us on opening night, will you?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

Lilly stood up. “I guess I’d better go see how Michael is doing. if he doesn’t snap out of this mood, we’ll be rehearsing until three o’clock in the morning.” Kissing Dan’s cheek, she added, “Come back for a full rehearsal as soon as you have a chance.” The green eyes sparkled. “And bring Jill with you. I want to see if the two of you still look as good together as you used to.”

“Now, Lilly, don’t get any ideas.”

“I’ll get all the ideas I want. You and Jill were a perfect match. You may not have known it at the time, but I sure did. When the two of you entered a room, you could almost feel the chemistry. It was magical.”

She laid delicate fingers on his arm. “Speaking of magic, do you still…”

Quick as lightning, Dan’s hand shot out, touched Lilly’s ear and came back holding a ruby ring. “I believe this is yours.”

Her mouth forming a perfect O, Lilly glanced at her left hand. “My ruby. How did you do that?” She looked up, her expression one of pure delight. “I never felt it leaving my finger.”

Dan slid the ring back. “Just call me Merlin.” He kissed her again. “I’ll see you soon, Lilly.”

Ten

Of the many presentations Jill had made over the last six years, none had meant more to her than the one she was about to make in front of Ben Maitland and his five partners.

Not only was this new commission a turning point in her career, it would be the first project she would complete on her own, without her father’s guidance and supervision.

Now, as she stood next to the easel where she had propped up her drawings, some of her earlier confidence began to slip. She thought she knew those six men, knew what they expected of her, knew the image they were trying to project. But as she looked at their sober faces, she was as uncertain as she had been on the day of her very first presentation.

At last, she took a deep breath, said a silent prayer and flipped the cover sheet over, exposing the first sketch-a rendition of the entire building.

Almost immediately, the six men gravitated forward, as if pulled by an invisible force. Their eyebrows seemed to knit in unison and their expressions, though still serious, were no longer as intimidating.

Jill held back a sigh of relief. She had their attention.

Resisting the need to clear her throat, she forged ahead. “When we first met two months ago,” she began, “the concept was to build a rather angular tower, a structure reminiscent of the Transamerica Pyramid in San Francisco, or the First Interstate Bank Tower in Dallas. As I began working on the preliminary designs, however, I realized that none of them reflected the uniqueness you gentlemen were trying to achieve. None were saying to me, “Here I am,” and none had the potential to become a world-famous landmark.

“This building does,” she continued, turning to look at her sketch. “As you can see, I’ve softened the lines, and I’ve added one more wing so as to create a cloverleaf effect.” As she talked, she ran her pointer up and down the broad curves of the building. “This will achieve a double purpose. It eliminates the treatment of corners-where one wall abuts another-and it maximizes privacy.”

“How so?” Ben Maitland asked.

Again, Jill’s pointer skimmed over the design. “Because the one-hundred-twenty-degree angles of the building make it virtually impossible for one neighbor to peek at another. And because of the unique tri form shape, every apartment will have a view of James River.”

She could tell by the way the six men slowly nodded that they knew exactly what that meant. An apartment with a view would sell at twice the price. Encouraged, she moved her pointer up a notch. “At the very top of the building, the rounded effect continues with a circular roof garden and enough space for private parties or informal gatherings. As agreed, the building will also include an underground garage and a complete recreational facility.”

“That extra wing is going to increase costs dramatically,” Jerome Tippin remarked.

“Yes, but it will also give you an additional two hundred units, and based on your projections and our own market research of the area, those extra apartments will be snapped up in no time and will more than offset the extra cost.”

“She’s right,” Ben said, turning to his financial officer. “This city is experiencing tremendous urban renewal. Young professionals are moving back to town and affluent baby boomers whose children have moved out of the nest are looking for a less complicated life-style. I agree with Jill. We won’t have any problem selling those extra units.”

Another partner nodded. “I feel the same way.”

Ben turned back to Jill. “Let’s take a look at what you’ve done with the apartments.”

Finding it difficult to hold back her excitement, Jill flipped the page and continued her presentation.

By the time she was finished, shortly after two o’clock, all six partners had reversed their earlier decision and were as eager as she was to begin the project. They even apologized for what they called their shortsightedness and lack of faith.

An hour and a half later, Jill was landing at Washington National Airport. With her commuter flight to New York not leaving until five-thirty, she had almost two hours to find out if someone remembered seeing her father.