Pretend You Don't See Her (39 page)

 
          
He
watched as Lacey Farrell got out of the cab. She seemed to be pleading with the
driver, reaching back through the window, offering money. He kept shaking his
head. Then he rolled up the window and drove away.

 
          
Farrell
watched the cab until it was out of sight. For the first time he could fully
see her face. Sloane thought she looked young and vulnerable and very scared.
She turned and limped up the walk. Then she rang the bell.

 
          
It
didn’t look as if the woman who had answered the door, opening it only a crack,
was going to let her in. Lacey Farrell kept pointing to her ankle.

 
          
“My
foot hurts. Please let me in, nice lady. Then I’ll mug you,” Nick simpered.

 
          
Sloane
looked at his partner, wondering why he had ever found him amusing. It was time
to call in a report. He found it very satisfying that he would be the one to
bring Lacey Farrell in, even though it meant turning her over to Baldwin’s
custody.

 
          
He
did not know that an amused and equally satisfied Sandy Savarano was watching
him from a second-story bedroom in 10 Adams Place, where he had been patiently
awaiting Lacey Farrell’s arrival.

 
          
MONA
FARRELL WENT BACK HOME WITH KIT AND JAY. “I can’t go into New York and have
brunch while I’m worrying like this,” she said. “I’ll call Alex and ask him to
come out here.”

 
          
Kit’s
two boys, Todd and Andy, had gone skiing at Hunter Mountain with friends for
the day. A baby-sitter was minding Bonnie, who was starting with another cold.

 
          
Bonnie
rushed to the door when she heard them arriving.

 
          
“She
told me all about how she’s going to Disney World for her birthday with her
Aunt Lacey,” the sitter said.

 
          
“My
birthday is coming very soon,” Bonnie said firmly. “It’s next month.”

 
          
“And
I told her February is the shortest month of the year,” the sitter said as she
put on her coat and got ready to leave. “
That really made her
feel
good.”

 
          
“Come
with me while I make a phone call,” Mona said to Bonnie. “You can say hello to
Uncle Alex.”

 
          
She
picked up her granddaughter and hugged her. “Did you know that you look just
like your Aunt Lacey did when she was almost five years old?”

 
          
“I
like Uncle Alex very much,” Bonnie said. “You like him too, don’t you, Nana?”

 
          
“I
don’t know what I’d have done without him these past months,” Mona said. “Come
on, sweetheart, let’s go upstairs.”

 
          
Jay
and Kit looked at each other. “You’re thinking the same thing I am,” Jay said
after a moment of silence. “Mona admits that Alex encouraged her to make Lacey
tell her where she was living. She may not have told him where Lacey actually
was, but there are other ways to give it away. Like the way Mona announced at
dinner the other night that Lacey had joined a new health club with a great
squash court.
Less than twelve hours later somebody followed
Lacey from that health club, probably intending to kill her.
It’s hard
to believe this was just coincidence.”

 
          
“But
Jay, it’s also hard to believe that Alex would be involved with all this,” Kit
said.

 
          
“I
hope he isn’t, but I told him where Lacey was going, and now I’m calling the
U.S. Attorney at the emergency number and telling him too. She may hate me for
it, but I’d much rather see her held in custody as a material witness than
dead.”

 
          
“WHY
DID YOU COME HERE?” LOTTIE HOFFMAN DEMANDED, after reluctantly admitting Lacey
into her home. “You can’t stay here. I’ll call another cab for you. Where do
you want to go?”

 
          
Now
that she was face to face with the one person who might be able to help her,
Lacey felt as though she were bordering on hysteria. She still wasn’t sure
whether or not she had been followed. At this point it didn’t matter. All Lacey
was certain of was that she couldn’t keep running.

 
          
“Mrs.
Hoffman, I haven’t got any place to go,” she declared passionately. “Someone is
trying to kill me, and I think he’s been sent by the same person who ordered
your husband, Isabelle Waring, and Heather Landi killed. It has to stop, and I
think you’re the one who can make it stop, Mrs. Hoffman. Please help me!”

 
          
Lottie
Hoffman’s eyes softened. She noticed Lacey’s awkward stance, how she clearly
favored one foot. “You’re in pain. Come in. Sit down.”

 
          
The
living room was small but exquisitely neat. Lacey sat on the couch and slipped
off the heavy coat. “This isn’t mine,” she said. “I can’t go to my own home or
reach into my own closet. I can’t go near my family. My little niece was shot
and almost killed because of me. I’m going to live like this for the rest of my
life if whoever is behind all this isn’t identified and arrested. Please, Mrs.
Hoffman, tell me—did your husband know who was behind it?”

 
          
“I’m
afraid. I can’t talk about it.” Lottie Hoffman kept her head down, her eyes on
the floor, as she spoke in a near whisper. “If Max had kept his mouth shut,
he’d still be alive. So would Heather. So would her mother.” She finally raised
her head and looked directly at Lacey. “Is the truth worth all those deaths? I
don’t think so.”

 
          
“You
wake up scared every morning, don’t you?” Lacey asked. She reached over and
took the elderly woman’s thin, heavily veined hand. “Tell me what you know,
please, Mrs. Hoffman. Who is behind all this?”

 
          
“The
truth is I don’t know. I don’t even know his name. Max did. Max was the one who
worked for Jimmy Landi. He was the one who knew Heather. If only I hadn’t seen
her that day at
Mohonk
. I told Max about it and
described the man she was with. He got so upset. He said that the man was a
drug dealer and a racketeer but that no one knew it, that everyone thought he
was respectable, even a good guy. So Max made the lunch date with Heather to
warn her— and two days later, he was dead.”

 
          
Tears
welled in Lottie Hoffman’s eyes. “I miss Max so much, and I’m so scared.”

 
          
“You’re
right to be,” Lacey told her gently. “But keeping your door locked isn’t the
solution. Someday, whoever this person is, he’ll decide that you’re a potential
threat too.”

 
          
*

 
          
Sandy
Savarano attached the silencer to his pistol. It had been child’s play to get
into this house. He could leave the same way he had come in—through the back
window of this bedroom. The tree outside was like a staircase. His car was on
the next street, directly accessible through the neighbor’s yard. He would be
miles away before the cops sitting outside even suspected something was wrong.
He looked at his watch. It was time.

 
          
The
old woman would be first. She was only a nuisance. What he wanted most was to
see the expression in Lacey Farrell’s eyes when he pointed the pistol at her.
He wouldn’t give her time to scream. No, there would be just long enough for
her to make that whimpering little sound of recognition that was so thrilling
to hear, as she realized that she was about to die.

 
          
Now.

 
          
Sandy
put his right foot on the first step of the staircase,
then
with infinite caution, began his descent.

 
          
ALEX
CARBINE CALLED LANDI’S RESTAURANT AND ASKED to speak to Jimmy. He waited,
then
heard Steve Abbott’s voice. “Alex, is there anything I
can do for you? I hate to bother Jimmy. He’s feeling awfully down today.”

 
          
“I’m
sorry about that but I need to talk to him,” Carbine said. “By the way, Steve,
has Carlos come to you guys looking for a job?”

 
          
“As
a matter of fact, he has. Why?”

 
          
“Because
if he’s still there you can tell him he doesn’t have one here anymore. Now put
me through to Jimmy.”

 
          
Again
he waited. When Jimmy Landi picked up his phone it was clear from his voice
that he was under immense strain.

 
          
“Jimmy,
I can tell something’s wrong. Can I help?”

 
          
“No, but thanks.”

 
          
“Well,
look, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve figured out something and wanted to
pass it on to you. I understand Carlos is sniffing around for a job from you.
Well, listen to me: don’t take him back!”

 
          
“I
don’t intend to, but why not?” Jimmy responded.

 
          
“Because
I think he’s on the take somehow. It’s been driving me nuts that Lacey Farrell
was tracked down by this killer to where they had her hiding in Minneapolis.”

 
          
“Oh,
is that where she was?” Jimmy Landi remarked. “I hadn’t heard.”

 
          
“Yes,
but only her mother knew it. She got Lacey to tell her. And since I was the one
who told her to make Lacey tell her where she was living, I feel responsible.”

 
          
“That
wasn’t too smart of you,” Jimmy Landi said.

 
          
“I
never pretended to be smart. All I could see was that Mona’s guts were being
torn out. Anyway, the night she learned that Lacey was in Minneapolis she
bought a copy of the Minneapolis Star Tribune and had it with her at dinner. I
saw her slip it back in the bag when I came to the table, but I never asked her
about it, and I never saw it again. But here’s what I’m getting at: I noticed
that at one point, when Mona was off to the powder room and I was glad-handing
a customer, Carlos was over at our table, supposedly straightening our napkins.
I saw him move the bag, and it’s entirely possible that he looked inside.”

 
          
“It’s
just the sort of thing Carlos would do,” Landi replied. “I never liked the guy
in the first place.”

 
          
“And
then he was our waiter again on Friday night when Mona talked about Lacey
joining a new health club.
One with a squash court.
It
seems to me more than a coincidence that somebody showed up at that club
looking for her a few hours later. You just have to put two and two together,
right?”

 
          
“Hmmm,”
Jimmy murmured, “it sounds like maybe Carlos was working to earn more than a
tip Friday night. I
gotta
go, Alex. Talk to you soon.”

 
          
ED
SLOANE COULD TELL THAT SOMETHING WAS SPOOKING his partner. Even though it was
cold in the car, Nick Mars was giving off an acrid odor of perspiration. Shiny
droplets of sweat covered the forehead of his babyish face.

 
          
The
instinct that had never failed him told Sloane that something was going
terribly wrong. “I think it’s time we go in and collect Ms. Farrell,” he said.

 
          
“Why
do that, Ed?” Mars asked, surprised. “We’ll pick her up when she comes out.”

 
          
Sloane
opened the door of the car and drew his pistol. “Let’s go.”

 
          
Lacey
wasn’t sure if she actually heard a sound on the staircase. Old houses seem
sometimes to have a life of their own. She was aware, however, that the
atmosphere in the room had changed, like a thermometer suddenly plummeting.
Lottie Hoffman felt it too; Lacey could see it in her eyes.