Morning Noon & Night (15 page)

“Ssh! I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. We’ve got to report this to the police.”

“I know. You’re right. I…I should have stayed there and waited for them to come. I just…panicked, Marc. Now it’s a hit-and-run. But there wasn’t anything I could do for her. She was dead. You should have seen her face. It was awful.”

He held her for a long time, until she quieted down.

When Kendall spoke, she said tentatively, “Marc…do we have to go to the police?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She was fighting hysteria. “Well, it’s over, isn’t it? Nothing can bring her back. What good would it do for them to punish me? I didn’t mean to do it. Why couldn’t we just pretend it never happened?”

“Kendall, if they ever traced—”

“How can they? There was no one around.”

“What about your car? Was it damaged?”

“There’s a dent. I told the garage attendant I hit a deer.” She was fighting for control. “Marc, no one saw the accident…Do you know what would happen to me if they arrested me and sent me to prison? I’d lose my business, everything I’ve built up all these years, and for what? For something that’s already done! It’s over!” She began to sob again.

He held her close. “Ssh! We’ll see. We’ll see.”

The morning papers gave the story a big play. What gave it added drama was the fact that the dead woman had been on her way to Manhattan to be married.
The New York Times
covered it as a straight news story, but the
Daily News
and
Newsday
played it up as a heart-tugging drama.

Kendall bought a copy of each newspaper, and she became more and more horrified at what she had done. Her mind was filled with all the terrible if’s.

If I hadn’t gone to Connecticut for my friend’s birthday…
.

If I had stayed home that day…
.

If I hadn’t had anything to drink…
.

If the woman had picked the flowers a few seconds earlier or a few seconds later…
.

I’m responsible for murdering another human being!

Kendall thought of the terrible grief she had caused the woman’s family, and her fiancé’s family, and she felt sick to her stomach again.

According to the newspapers, the police were asking for information from anyone who might have a clue about the hit-and-run.

They have no way of finding me
, Kendall thought.
All I have to do is act as if nothing happened
.

When Kendall went to the garage to pick up her car the next morning, Red was there.

“I wiped the blood off the car,” he said. “Do you want me to fix the dent?”

Of course! I should have thought of it sooner
. “Yes, please.”

Red was looking at her strangely. Or was it her imagination?

“Sam and I talked about it last night,” he said. “It’s funny, you know. A deer should have done a lot more damage.”

Kendall’s heart began to beat wildly. Her mouth was suddenly so dry she could hardly speak. “It was a…a small deer.”

Red nodded laconically. “Must have been real small.”

Kendall could feel his eyes on her as she drove out of the garage.

When Kendall walked into her office, her secretary, Nadine, took one look at her and said, “What happened to you?”

Kendall froze. “What…what do you mean?”

“You look shaky. Let me get you some coffee.”

“Thanks.”

Kendall walked over to the mirror. Her face looked pale and drawn.
They’re going to know just by looking at me!

Nadine came into the office with a cup of hot coffee. “Here. This will make you feel better.” She looked at Kendall curiously. “Is everything all right?”

“I…I had a little accident yesterday,” Kendall said.

“Oh? Was anyone hurt?”

In her mind, she could see the face of the dead woman. “No. I…I hit a deer.”

“What about your car?”

“It’s being repaired.”

“I’ll call your insurance company.”

“Oh, no, Nadine, please don’t.”

Kendall saw the surprised look in Nadine’s eyes.

It was two days later that the first letter came:

Dear Mrs. Renaud,

I’m the chairman of the Wild Animal Protection Association, which is in desperate need. I’m sure that you would like to help us out. The organization needs money to preserve wild animals. We are especially interested in deer. You can wire $50,000 to account number 804072-A at the Crédit Suisse bank in Zurich. I would strongly suggest that the money be there within the next five days.

It was unsigned. All the E’s in the letter were broken. Enclosed in the envelope was a newspaper clipping about the accident.

Kendall read the letter twice. The threat was unmistakable. She agonized over what to do.
Marc was right
, she thought.
I should have gone to the police
. But now everything was worse. She was a fugitive. If they found her now, it would mean prison and disgrace, as well as the end of her business.

At lunchtime, she went to her bank. “I want to wire fifty thousand dollars to Switzerland…”

When Kendall got home that evening, she showed the letter to Marc.

He was stunned. “My God!” he said. “Who could have sent this?”

“Nobody…nobody knows.” She was trembling.

“Kendall,
someone
knows.”

Her body was twitching. “There was no one around, Marc! I—”

“Wait a minute. Let’s try to figure this out. Exactly what happened when you returned to town?”

“Nothing. I…I put the car in the garage, and—” She stopped.
“You got a bad dent here, Mrs. Renaud. Looks like there’s blood on it.”

Marc saw the expression on her face. “What?”

She said slowly, “The owner of the garage and his mechanic were there. They saw the blood on the fender. I told
them I hit a deer, and they said there should have been a lot more damage.” She remembered something else. “Marc…”

“Yes?”

“Nadine, my secretary. I told her the same thing. I could see that she didn’t believe me either. So it had to be one of the three of them.”

“No,” Marc said slowly.

She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Sit down, Kendall, and listen to me. If any of them was suspicious of you, they could have told your story to a dozen people. The report of the accident has been in all the newspapers. Someone has put two and two together. I think the letter was a bluff, testing you. It was a terrible mistake to send that money.”

“But why?”

“Because now they
know
you’re guilty, don’t you see? You’ve given them the proof they needed.”

“Oh, God! What should I do?” Kendall asked.

Marc Renaud was thoughtful for a moment. “I have an idea how we can find out who these bastards are.”

At ten o’clock the following morning, Kendall and Marc were seated in the office of Russell Gibbons, vice president of the Manhattan First Security Bank.

“And what can I do for you, today?” Mr. Gibbons asked.

Marc said, “We would like to check on a numbered bank account in Zurich.”

“Yes?”

“We want to know whose account it is.”

Gibbons rubbed his hands across his chin. “Is there a crime involved?”

Marc said quickly, “No! Why do you ask?”

“Well, unless there’s some kind of criminal activity, such as laundering money or breaking the laws of Switzerland or the United States, Switzerland will not violate the secrecy of its numbered bank accounts. Their reputation is built on confidentiality.”

“Surely, there’s some way to…?”

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid not.”

Kendall and Marc looked at each other. Kendall’s face was filled with despair.

Marc rose. “Thank you for your time.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.” He ushered them out of his office.

When Kendall drove into the garage that evening, neither Sam nor Red was around. Kendall parked her car, and as she passed the little office, through the window she saw a typewriter on a stand. She stopped, staring at it, wondering if it had a broken letter E.
I have to find out
, she thought.

She walked over to the office, hesitated a moment, then opened the door and stepped inside. As she moved toward the typewriter, Sam suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

“Evenin’, Mrs. Renaud,” he said. “Can I help you?”

She spun around, startled. “No. I…I just left my car.
Good night.” She hurried toward the door.

“Good night, Mrs. Renaud.”

In the morning, when Kendall passed the garage office, the typewriter was gone. In its place was a personal computer.

Sam saw her staring at it. “Nice, huh? I decided to bring this place into the twentieth century.”

Now that he can afford it?

When Kendall told Marc about it that evening, he said thoughtfully, “It’s a possibility, but we need proof.”

Monday morning, when Kendall went to her office, Nadine was waiting for her.

“Are you feeling better, Mrs. Renaud?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Yesterday was my birthday. Look what my husband got me!” She walked over to a closet and pulled out a luxurious mink coat. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

J
ulia Stanford enjoyed having Sally as a roommate. She was always upbeat and fun and cheerful. She had had a bad marriage and had sworn never to get involved with a man again. Julia wasn’t sure what Sally’s definition of
never
was, because she seemed to be out with a different man every week.

“Married men are the best.” Sally philosophized. “They feel guilty, so they’re always buying you presents. With a single man, you have to ask yourself, Why is he still single?”

She said to Julia, “You aren’t dating anyone, are you?”

“No.” Julia thought of the men who had wanted to take her out. “I don’t want to go out just for the sake of going out, Sally. I have to be with someone I really care about.”

“Well, have I got a man for you!” Sally said. “You’re going to love him! His name is Tony Vinetti. I told him all about you, and he’s dying to meet you.”

“I really don’t think—”

“He’ll pick you up tomorrow night at eight o’clock.”

Tony Vinetti was tall, very tall, in an appealing, ungainly way. His hair was thick and dark, and his smile exploded disarmingly as he looked at Julia.

“Sally wasn’t exaggerating. You’re a knockout!”

“Thank you,” Julia said. She felt a little shiver of pleasure.

“Have you ever been to Houston’s?”

It was one of the finest restaurants in Kansas City.

“No.” The truth was that she could not afford to eat at Houston’s. Not even with the raise she had been given.

“Well, that’s where we have a reservation.”

At dinner, Tony talked mostly about himself, but Julia did not mind. He was entertaining and charming.
“He’s drop-dead gorgeous,”
Sally had said. And he was.

The dinner was delicious. For dessert, Julia had ordered chocolate soufflé and Tony had ice cream. As they were lingering over coffee, Julia thought,
Is he going to ask me to his apartment, and if he does, will I go? No. I can’t do that. Not on the first date. He’ll think I’m cheap. When we go out the next time…
.

The check arrived. Tony scanned it and said, “It looks right.” He ticked off the items on the check. “You had the pâté and the lobster…”

“Yes.”

“And you had the French fries and salad, and the soufflé, right?”

She looked at him, puzzled. “That’s right…”

“Okay.” He did some quick addition. “Your share of the bill is fifty dollars and forty cents.”

Julia sat there in shock. “I beg your pardon?”

Tony grinned. “I know how independent you women are today. You won’t let guys do anything for you, will you? There,” he said magnanimously, “I’ll take care of your share of the tip.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” Sally apologized. “He’s really a honey. Are you going to see him again?”

“I can’t afford him,” Julia said bitterly.

“Well, I have someone else for you. You’ll love—”

“No. Sally, I really don’t want…”

“Trust me.”

Ted Riddle was a man in his late thirties and, Julia had to admit, quite attractive. He took her to Jennie’s Restaurant on Historic Strawberry Hill, famous for its authentic Croatian food.

“Sally really did me a favor,” Riddle said. “You’re very lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“Did Sally tell you I have an advertising agency?”

“No. She didn’t.”

“Oh, yes. I have one of the biggest firms in Kansas City. Everybody knows me.”

“That’s nice. I—”

“We handle some of the biggest clients in the country.”

“You do? I’m not—”

“Oh, yes. We handle celebrities, banks, big businesses, chain stores…”

“Well, I—”

“…supermarkets. You name it, we represent them all.”

“That’s—”

“Let me tell you how I got started…”

He never stopped talking during dinner, and the only subject was Ted Riddle.

“He was probably just nervous.” Sally apologized.

“Well, I can tell you, he made
me
nervous. If there’s anything you want to know about the life of Ted Riddle since the day he was born, just ask me!”

“Jerry McKinley.”

“What?”

“Jerry McKinley. I just remembered. He used to date a girlfriend of mine. She was absolutely crazy about him.”

“Thanks, Sally, but no.”

“I’m going to call him.”

The following night, Jerry McKinley appeared. He was nice-looking, and he had a sweet and engaging personality. When he walked in the door and looked at Julia, he said, “I know blind dates are always difficult. I’m rather shy myself, so I know how you must feel, Julia.”

She liked him immediately.

They went to the Evergreen Chinese Restaurant on State Avenue for dinner.

“You work for an architectural firm. That must be exciting. I don’t think people realize how important architects are.”

He’s sensitive
, Julia thought happily. She smiled. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

The evening was delightful, and the more they talked, the more Julia liked him. She decided to be bold.

“Would you like to come back to the apartment for a nightcap?” she asked.

“No. Let’s go back to my place.”

“Your place?”

He leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “That’s where I keep the whips and chains.”

Henry Wesson owned an accounting firm in the building where Peters, Eastman & Tolkin was quartered. Two or three mornings a week, Julia would find herself in the elevator with him. He seemed a pleasant-enough man. He was in his thirties, quietly intelligent-looking, sandy haired, and he wore black rimmed glasses.

The acquaintance began with polite nods, then “Good morning,” then “You’re looking very well today,” and after a few months, “I wonder if you’d like to have dinner with me some evening?” He was watching her eagerly, waiting for an answer.

Julia smiled. “All right.”

It was instant love on Henry’s part. On their first date, he took Julia to EBT, one of the top restaurants in Kansas City. He was obviously thrilled to be out with her.

He told her a little about himself. “I was born right here in good old KC. My father was born here, too. The acorn doesn’t fall far from the oak. You know what I mean?”

Julia knew what he meant.

“I always knew I wanted to be an accountant. When I got out of school, I went to work for the Bigelow & Benson Financial Corporation. Now I have my own firm.”

“That’s nice,” Julia said.

“That’s about all there is to tell about me. Tell me about you.”

Julia was silent for a moment.
I’m the illegitimate daughter of one of the richest men in the world. You’ve probably heard of him. He just drowned. I’m an heiress to his estate
. She looked around the elegant room.
I could buy this restaurant, if I wanted to. I could probably buy this whole town, if I wanted to
.

Henry was staring at her. “Julia?”

“Oh! I…I’m sorry. I was born in Milwaukee. My…my father died when I was young. My mother and I traveled around the country a great deal. When she passed away, I decided to stay here and get a job.”
I hope my nose isn’t growing
.

Henry Wesson put a hand over hers. “So you’ve never had a man to take care of you.” He leaned forward and said earnestly, “I would like to take care of you for the rest of your life.”

Julia looked at him in surprise. “I don’t mean to sound like Doris Day, but we hardly know each other.”

“I want to change that.”

When Julia got home, Sally was waiting for her. “Well?” she asked. “How did your date go?”

Julia said, thoughtfully, “He’s very sweet, and…”

“He’s crazy about you!”

Julia smiled. “I think he proposed.”

Sally’s eyes widened. “You
think
he proposed? My God! Don’t you know if the man proposed or not?”

“Well, he said he wanted to take care of me for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a proposal!” Sally exclaimed. “That’s a proposal! Marry him! Quick! Marry him before he changes his mind!”

Julia laughed. “What’s the hurry?”

“Listen to me. Invite him over here for dinner. I’ll cook it, and you tell him you made it.”

Julia laughed. “Thank you. No. When I find the man I want to marry, we may be eating Chinese food out of cartons, but believe me, the dinner table will be beautifully set with flowers and candlelight.”

On their next date, Henry said, “You know, Kansas City is a great place to bring up kids.”

“Yes, it is.” Julia’s only problem was that she wasn’t sure
that she wanted to bring up
his
children. He was reliable, decent, sober, but…

She discussed it with Sally.

“He keeps asking me to marry him,” Julia said.

“What’s he like?”

She thought for a moment, trying to think of the most romantic and exciting things she could say about Henry Wesson. “He’s reliable, sober, decent…”

Sally looked at her a moment. “In other words, he’s dull.”

Julia said defensively, “He isn’t exactly dull…”

Sally nodded, knowingly. “He’s dull. Marry him.”

“What?”

“Marry him. Good dull husbands are hard to find.”

Getting from one payday to the next was a financial minefield. There were paycheck deductions, and rent, and automobile expenses, and groceries, and clothes to buy. Julia owned a Toyota Tercel, and it seemed to her that she spent more on it than she did on herself. She was constantly borrowing money from Sally.

One evening, when Julia was getting dressed, Sally said, “It’s another big Henry night, huh? Where’s he taking you tonight?”

“We’re going to Symphony Hall. Cleo Laine is performing.”

“Has old Henry proposed again?”

Julia hesitated. The truth was that Henry proposed every time they were together. She felt pressured, but she could not bring herself to say yes.

“Don’t lose him,” Sally warned.

Sally is probably right
, Julia thought.
Henry Wesson would make a good husband. He’s
…She hesitated.
He’s reliable, sober, decent…Is that enough?

As Julia was going out the door, Sally called, “Can I borrow your black shoes?”

“Sure.” And Julia was gone.

Sally went into Julia’s bedroom and opened the closet door. The pair of shoes she wanted was on the top shelf. As she reached for them, a cardboard box that was sitting precariously on the shelf fell down, and its contents spilled out all over the floor.

“Damn!” Sally bent down to gather up the papers. They consisted of dozens of newspaper clippings, photographs, and articles, and they were all about the Harry Stanford family. There seemed to be hundreds of them.

Suddenly, Julia came hurrying back into the room. “I forgot my—” She stopped as she saw the papers on the floor. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry.” Sally apologized. “The box fell down.”

Blushing, Julia bent down and started putting the papers back in the box.

“I had no idea you were so interested in the rich and famous,” Sally said.

Silently, Julia kept shoving the papers into the box. As she gathered a handful of photographs, she came across a
small gold heart-shaped locket that her mother had given her before she died. Julia put the locket aside.

Sally was studying her, puzzled. “Julia?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you so interested in Harry Stanford?”

“I’m not. I…This was my mother’s.”

Sally shrugged. “Okay.” She reached for a paper. It was from a scandal magazine, and the headline caught her eye:
TYCOON GETS CHILDREN’S GOVERNESS PREGNANT
—
BABY BORN OUT-OF-WEDLOCK
—
MOTHER AND BABY DISAPPEAR
!

Sally was staring at Julia, openmouthed. “My God! You’re Harry Stanford’s daughter!”

Julia’s mouth tightened. She shook her head and continued putting the papers back.

“Aren’t you?”

Julia stopped. “Please, I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

Sally jumped to her feet.
“You’d rather not talk about it? You’re the daughter of one of the richest men in the world, and you’d rather not talk about it? Are you insane?”

“Sally…”

“Do you know how much he was worth? Billions.”

“That has nothing to do with me.”

“If you’re his daughter, it has
everything
to do with you. You’re an heiress! All you have to do is tell the family who you are, and—”

“No.”

“No…what?”

“You don’t understand.” Julia rose and then sank down
on the bed. “Harry Stanford was an awful man. He abandoned my mother. She hated him, and I hate him.”

“You don’t
hate
anyone with that much money. You
understand
them.”

Julia shook her head. “I don’t want any part of them.”

“Julia, heiresses don’t live in crummy apartments and buy clothes at flea markets, and borrow to pay the rent. Your family would
hate
knowing you live like this. They’d be humiliated.”

“They don’t even know I’m alive.”

“Then you’ve got to tell them.”

“Sally…”

“Yes?”

“Drop the subject.”

Sally looked at her for a long time. “Sure. By the way, you couldn’t loan me a million or two till payday, could you?”