Authors: Christiane Heggan
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he’d said in his resounding voice. “My name is Philip Van Horn. I’m an attorney for the architectural firm of Bennett & Associates and I would like to briefly explain our position on the matter of the Church Hill project. First of all, be assured that the Maitland Group has no intention of erecting a building on a site of such historical significance. To show his good faith, Mr. Maitland has agreed to stop all excavation until we can perform the necessary research to determine if the document that was brought to our attention is authentic.”
There had been a lot of heated questions, and even a few threats, all of which Philip and Ben Maitland had addressed calmly for nearly an hour. Eventually, the crowd had dispersed, just in time for Philip and Jill to rush back to the airport and make their flight.
Now, as their New York-bound plane sped down the runway, Jill turned to Philip. “You were great, Philip. Those people started to turn hostile toward the end, but you and Ben handled them beautifully.”
“Let’s just hope the experts rule in our favor.” Philip sighed. “This is one commission we can’t afford to lose.”
As they became airborne, he picked up his briefcase and set it on his lap. “How did you find Cyrus?”
“Not his usual self, but he was glad to be back. And so was I. I’m not cut out to be president of a company.”
“Are there any serious leads now that Wally has reopened the case?”
Unwilling to discuss the details of the investigation with anyone outside the immediate family, Jill remained vague. “Not really.”
“I feel so helpless, Jill. I wish there was something I could do.”
Jill laid a hand on his arm. “You’re doing more than you realize, Philip, by simply being here for us, and by remaining cool and calm in the face of disaster.”
He gave her hand a fatherly pat and smiled, something he did rarely these days. “That’s what you pay me those big bucks for, Jill.”
*
“Jill, Jerry Kranski is here,” Cathie announced on the intercom the following morning. “He says he wants to see you.”
“Send him in, Cathie.”
Elbows on her desk and a welcoming smile on her face, Jill watched the teenager as he stepped hesitantly into her office. She marveled at the change in him. if she hadn’t seen the spiked purple hair and the nose ring with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed he was the same young man. In his dark pants, white sweater and Ivy League haircut, he could have passed for an architect in training.
“How are you, Jerry?”
“Fine.” He threw a nervous glance around him.
“Bill Taggart tells me you’re doing a terrific job in the print room.”
“It’s a great place to work, Miss Bennett. And I’m learning a lot about the architectural business.”
“That’s great.” She smiled, wishing he’d relax a little. “Who knows? We might even make an architect out of you someday.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Then, because he was still clearly ill at ease, she decided to give him a nudge. “Is there anything I can do for you, Jerry?”
“Not really.” As Jill pointed to a chair, he sat down. “I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of snitch or anything, but… there’s something you should know.”
“About what?”
“A conversation I heard.”
“A conversation? Here at B&A?”
“No. At that project B&A is doing on Thirty-fourth Street. The nightclub?”
Jill nodded. “An, yes. Bob Freeman’s design.”
“Right. Well, Mr. Freeman sent me there earlier to deliver a set of revised drawings to the building inspector.”
“That would be Chuck Abernathy.” Jill hated the man and shuddered every time he was assigned to one of their jobs. Abernathy was a nitpicker who enjoyed finding small discrepancies that slowed down the job.
“Yeah, that’s him.” Jerry was beginning to relax. “I couldn’t find him at first, so I went looking for him. That’s when I overheard him talking to someone about B&A.”
“What were they saying?”
“Mr. Abernathy was telling the other man that, from now on, he’d have to go by the book, and that included the department store B&A was designing. He said that because of the warehouse collapse on South Street the other day, the heat was on and he was scared.”
“What warehouse collapse?”
“Didn’t you hear about it? It happened on Tuesday. The second floor where they store all the heavy machinery collapsed and killed one man.”
Tuesday. That was the day she had gone to the Catskills with Frankie and Ashley. With all that had happened since then, she hadn’t kept up with the news.
“Now the city engineer wants to test the concrete on that building,” Jerry continued. “That’s why Abernathy is scared. I heard him tell the other man to try to get the city engineer to keep his mouth shut; otherwise there’d be hell to pay. The other man said he’d take care of it, not to worry.”
That crooked rat, Jill fumed. He was taking kickbacks from an unscrupulous contractor. She should have known.
“Thanks for coming forward, Jerry,” she told the teenager. “I’m going to have to report this immediately. The city engineer might want to question you himself.”
Jerry shrugged. “That’s cool.”
“Who’s the other man?”
“I’ve never seen him before, but the building inspector called him Pete.”
Jill froze. Mulligan?
“What did he look like?” she asked.
“Average height, good-looking, thick black hair. He drove away in a black Mercedes.”
Jill’s hands clenched into fists. Got you, Mulligan.
Thirty-Four
Independent testing revealed that the concrete used in the construction of the South Street warehouse was well below grade, a fact Pete Mulligan hadn’t been able to contest.
By four o’clock that afternoon, the contractor had been arrested and charged with negligent homicide.
Upon investigation, it was further discovered that the concrete company was owned by Gino Pugliese. A warrant had immediately been issued for his arrest, but so far the authorities had been unsuccessful in locating him.
Word around town was that Pugliese had beard he was in trouble and fled the country.
Chuck Abernathy, though he had emphatically denied any connection with either man, was suspended pending an investigation.
Olivia had come to watch the latest developments on Jill’s TV in her office.
“I’d feel much better knowing that Gino was in police custody,” Olivia said to her cousin, “but I suppose having him out of the country is not a bad compromise, provided he stays out.”
Leaning forward, Jill turned the set off. “He would have no reason to come after you now, Olivia. You’re not the one who turned Mulligan in, Jerry is.”
“The kid isn’t going to get in trouble, is he?”
“I doubt it. Now that Pugliese is gone, Mulligan doesn’t have anyone to do his dirty work for him. Not only that, but suddenly it seems as if the whole town is abuzz with information about Mulligan’s unethical practices. I wouldn’t worry about him. His powers have vanished into thin air.”
“Why didn’t all those people come forward sooner? They might have prevented a man’s death.”
“Fear is a great motivator, Olivia. Mulligan knew exactly how to instill it.”
As Olivia stood up to leave, Jill added, “By the way, how did your first meeting with Gamblers Anonymous go last night?”
Olivia blushed, a reaction Jill wasn’t accustomed to seeing. “Okay. And you were right. Yvan is really a nice guy.” The color on her cheeks deepened.
Quick to grasp what was going on, Jill grinned. “And quite attractive, don’t you think?”
“I suppose.”
Jill was thrilled at the thought that her cousin might finally be falling for a nice guy. Until now, she had attracted nothing but jerks and gigolos.
Before she could ask Olivia more questions, however, her cousin, claiming to have a pressing engagement, waved goodbye and left.
Shortly before five o’clock, Jill was preparing to go home to get ready for a dinner date with Dan when her secretary walked into the office, looking agitated.
“Jill, Philip Van Horn forgot to sign that contract for the lease of B&A’s offices and I need to messenger it back to the landlord first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Can’t Philip sign it then?”
“He’s attending a symposium in Boston and won’t be in until after lunch.”
Jill glanced at her watch. “Give me the contract, Cathie. I’ll take it to Philip’s house and make sure it’s back on your desk at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Staten Island isn’t that much out of my way, and I have my car today.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Thanks, Jill.”
Moments later, Jill was at the wheel of her BMW, heading for Staten Island.
“See you tomorrow, Vera.” Cynthia Parson walked her nanny to the door.
“Bright and early,” Vera replied cheerfully.
Always in a good mood herself when she had the eight-to-five shift, Cynthia closed the door and walked back toward the kitchen. As she passed the living room, she glanced at Molly, who sat quietly watching a Barney video.
Cynthia sighed. She had hoped those four days at Walt Disney World would have improved Molly’s condition, but the vacation had turned out to be such an ordeal for her that Cynthia had cut the trip short
Fearing she had done irreparable damage to her little girl, Cynthia had immediately taken her to Dr. Madeas. The therapist had been quick to reassure her, explaining that Molly’s reaction was a normal one considering the severity of her case.
“Try not to look at the trip as a setback, Cynthia’
but as a learning experience. Molly needs to be reintroduced to a normal social life very slowly.”
In the kitchen, Cynthia turned on the small television set on the counter and slid a pan of brownies into the hot oven. Molly loved brownies. Maybe the smell as they baked would bring a smile to her face.
She reached for the timer and froze.
From the TV set came a voice she recognized instantly.
Turning around, she stared at the screen. A man was addressing a crowd outside what looked like an official building. In his late fifties, he stood about six feet tall, was well-dressed and attractive.
Just behind him was Jill Bennett.
Her teeth clamped on her bottom lip, Cynthia listened to the rest of the broadcast.
“agreed to stop all excavation until we can perform the necessary research to determine if the document that was brought to our attention is authentic.”
Cynthia’s hand flew to her mouth. It was the same man, the man Dan Santini was so desperately trying to locate.
The man Cynthia knew as Jack Smith.
The Todt Hill section of Staten Island, where Philip’s house was located, was an exclusive neighborhood south of the Staten Island Expressway, with beautiful, rambling houses and exquisitely manicured lawns.
The elegant white colonial was the same one Philip and Barbara had bought shortly after their wedding in 1965. Jill had been a frequent guest of the Van Horns during the subsequent years, but hadn’t been here in ages.
By the time she arrived at the house, Philip, whom she had called from her car, had already changed into comfortable tan chinos and a navy sweatshirt. “Come on in, Jill.” He shook his head as he let her in. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way because of my forgetfulness.”
“Don’t worry about it. I hope you have your copy of the contract with you. Cathie couldn’t find it anywhere.”
“It’s upstairs. I brought it home the other night to read, then promptly forgot it had to be hand-delivered first thing tomorrow morning.” He motioned toward a room down the hall. “Why don’t you wait for me in the study and make yourself comfortable? I’ll be right back.”
In the study, which was neat and rather severe, Jill didn’t sit but walked around, admiring Philip’s artwork prominently displayed throughout the room.
She was studying a Remington sculpture when her gaze fell on an open box under Philip’s desk. She wouldn’t have given it a second glance had it not been for the object that stuck out of it-a small, worn-out teddy bear.
Her heart gave an extra beat. It was the teddy bear she had given Blair shortly before her young friend had moved to Oklahoma.
Tears stinging her eyes, Jill crouched in front of the box and pulled out the stuffed animal, remembering the name Blair had given him—Gomez, after the main character on the “Addams Family,” Blair’s favorite TV show.
Deception 347 Looking farther into the box, she saw that it was filled with odds and ends Philip must have brought back from the University of Pennsylvania after Blair’s death.
Jill lifted a swimming trophy and let her fingers run along the long brass figure. Like her father, who had excelled in every sport, Blair had been a superb swimmer and had won several local and state meets before she and her mother had moved to the Southwest.
Beneath the trophy was a poetry book by John Keats. Blair, a true romantic, had loved Keats.
Curious to see what poem Blair might have been reading last, Jill opened the book at the page marked with a thin blue ribbon. As the pages parted, a photograph fell out.
Jill picked it up.
And almost reeled from the shock.
The photograph showed Blair gazing adoringly at a man. Their arms were entwined around each other, leaving no doubt as to the intimacy of their relationship.
But it was the handsome man who was smiling at the camera that Jill’s eyes were riveted to.
That man was her father.
Thirty-Five
Her head spinning from the shock, Jill kept looking at the photograph. Blair and her father? It couldn’t be. It was too ridiculous, too unthinkable, too.. obscene.
She turned the photograph over. There, in the young woman’s flowery handwriting, was the irrefutable proof that Blair and Simon had been much more than casual friends. The inscription read: “July 9 Unforgettable day on the Delaware with my darling Simon.”
Jill felt sick.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
At the sound of Philip’s sharp tone, Jill’s head snapped around. “I…” At a loss for words, she rose to her feet.
“Give me that.” With an angry gesture, the attorney snatched the photograph from Jill’s hand. “What right do you have to pry into my things?”