Sidney Sheldon's Mistress of the Game (43 page)

Gabe looked at her with a mixture of wonder and pity.

The tragedy is, she means it.

“You’re not going to die, Lexi. Marry me.”

I can’t. It will never work. There’s so much you don’t know about me. So much you must never know.

“Yes.”

Gabe’s face lit up. “Seriously? You will?”

“Yes!” Lexi was crying and laughing, touching and kissing him everywhere, unable to let him go. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I love you so much, Gabe.”

She knew she didn’t deserve a happy ending. But she wanted one so badly.

Kruger-Brent. Gabe. A baby.

At last, Lexi Templeton was going to have it all.

Eve knew the end was coming. She could feel death all around her, a smothering blanket she could not shake off. Panic surged up in her throat like vomit.

No! Not yet! It’s not my time. Please! I haven’t finished.

She was young and beautiful, far more beautiful than Alex. Men
fought one another for the privilege of going to bed with her. She was a goddess, rich, blessed, untouchable. Then the ghosts came in and spoiled it all.

Kate Blackwell, her grandmother.
You’re a wicked child, Eve. Alexandra shall inherit Kruger-Brent. You will get nothing.

Keith Webster.
It’s just a minor operation, to get rid of those fine lines around your eyes. You mustn’t worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.

Max, her gypsy boy, her savior.
We’re going under, Mother! Someone’s short-selling our stock. There’s nothing I can do.

Fools, all of them. Thieves, liars and fools!

Kate Blackwell was pressing the blanket down over Eve’s face. She couldn’t breathe. Overwhelmed with terror, Eve felt her bowels opening. She caught the rancid smell of her own filth, felt the sticky wetness on her legs and back.

No! Not now! Not like this!

With her last ounce of strength, Eve pushed her grandmother off. She reached into the bedside drawer, her gnarled fingers scrabbling desperately for pen and paper. She started to write, a frenzied, barely legible scrawl. Folding the paper over, she wrote a name on the back.

Almost there…

Keith Webster snatched the pen from her hand. George Mellis held her down. The last thing Eve saw was Kate Blackwell walking toward her with the blanket of death in her hands.

The old bitch was smiling.

T
WENTY
-E
IGHT

LEXI TEMPLETON’S WEDDING TO GABRIEL MCGREGOR WAS the society event of the decade. Held at Cedar Hill House in Dark Harbor, it was attended by prime ministers and kings, billionaire tycoons and movie stars. But the most important guest was none of those illustrious figures. It was a newborn baby girl—Maxine Alexandra Templeton McGregor. As the sole heiress to Kruger-Brent, Lexi’s daughter was already the richest child in America. Her photograph, however grainy, would be worth a fortune to the lucky paparazzo who snapped it first.

But no one was going to get her picture at the wedding. Security was so tight, not even a housefly got into the estate grounds without a permit. For today, at least, little Maxine could sleep peacefully, untroubled by the prying eyes of the world.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

Lexi bent low over her daughter’s crib. The terror of Maxine’s birth already felt like a distant memory. Nothing had gone wrong. Lexi had been worrying over nothing.

“You’re
beautiful.” Robbie Templeton kissed his sister on the cheek. As Gabe’s best man, he was supposed to be having a pre-ceremony drink with the groom. But he couldn’t resist snatching these few final moments with Lexi and his niece. Little Max already had her famous uncle wrapped around her finger.

“You’re biased. I’m still fat.” Lexi patted her nonexistent belly through the white lace of her wedding dress. “Do you think it’s ridiculous to wear white at my age?”

“Not at all,” said Robbie. “It’s the color of new beginnings.”

New beginnings. Yes. A fresh start.

Lexi still found it hard to come to terms with her new happiness. Under her direction, Kruger-Brent was once again thriving. They were smaller than they had been in Kate Blackwell’s heyday. But they were on their way back to the top, and the climb was exhilarating. With every passing month, Lexi worried less and less about being exposed for what she and Carl had done. The SEC hadn’t so much as sniffed at either of them. They were in the clear.

Better yet, she had Gabe to share her happiness. Gabe and the miracle that was their daughter. It was hard to tell who Maxine looked like. Being so tiny, her eyes were still baby blue, and her hair was a shock of chimpanzee black. Gabe said she looked like Lexi, but that was only because she clenched her fists and pouted a lot, and screamed blue murder when she didn’t get her way.

Paolo put his wrinkled, old man’s face around the door.

“Robbie, Gabe needs you. It’s five minutes to showtime.”

Robbie looked at Lexi.

“Next time I talk to you, you’ll be Mrs. Gabe McGregor.”

“I know.” Her smile could have lit up the whole state of Maine. “I just hope I don’t wake up before I get to that part.”

The entire garden of Cedar Hill House, a vast sloping lawn that led from the house right down to the water, was covered with a white canvas tent. Inside, a hundred-foot “aisle” lined with thousands of white roses led to a dais-style altar.

Peter Templeton’s eyes filled with tears as he walked his daughter toward her husband. Frail and elderly, a shadow of the burly quarterback of his youth, at times Peter appeared so weak that he had to lean on Lexi for support. But there could be no mistaking his joy. After so much suffering, God had at last granted a happy ending to his beloved child.

“Do you take this woman…?”

“I do.”

“Do you take this man…in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

“I do! I do.”

Lexi felt her shoulders lighten and her chest release. She gazed with love into Gabe’s eyes and saw her love reflected back.
I will never be alone again.

At the gates to Cedar Hill House, a man produced his ID card.

“Special delivery for Ms. Templeton.”

“Okay. You can leave it here.”

“No can do. My employer gave me strict instructions to deliver it to Ms. Templeton personally. It contains a very important document.”

The security guard laughed.

“I don’t care if it’s the original stone tablet of the Ten Commandments. You ain’t going up there.”

The man hesitated.

“If I leave it with you, will you be sure Ms. Templeton gets it? To-day?”

“Sure, buddy. Like I said. Leave it with me.”

He waited till the man had gone, then looked at the package. It was a plain, stiff brown envelope from a lawyer’s office. Boring. Who wanted to look at that shit on their wedding day?

Behind the guard lay a huge mound of unopened wedding presents and cards, junk mostly, left by well-wishers and members of the public. Without thinking, he tossed the envelope onto the pile.

Gabe felt like he was being sucked into a cyclone. All around him people were clamoring to shake his hand and pat him on the back.

“Beautiful ceremony.”

“Lexi looked gorgeous.”

“Congratulations, man. Where’s the honeymoon?”

The vice president of the United States, unquestionably one of the most boring men on the planet, cornered Gabe for ten solid minutes after the speeches. Even after most of the guests began drifting home, Gabe found himself pressing the flesh with one dignitary after another, shaking hands till his wrist ached. Spotting Robbie in the crowd, he grabbed his arm as if it were a branch in a tsunami.

“Oh my God. This is insane. I haven’t drawn a breath in the last three hours.”

Robbie smiled. “It’s your wedding day. You’re popular.”

“Is this what it’s like for you, after a concert? Getting mobbed by fans?”

“Ha! I wish. Have you seen Lexi?”

Gabe sighed. “I was about to ask you the same question. We’ve only been married half a day and already she’s disappeared on me.”

“Try the study,” said Robbie. “She’s probably on the PC, checking Kruger-Brent’s stock price.”

It was a joke. But Gabe said: “You know what? That’s not such a bad idea.”

Lieutenant John Carey of the Maine State Police shook his head in disbelief.

“It’s April first and no one told me. Right?”

Detectives Michael Shaw and Antonio Sanchez shook their heads.

“You’re serious about this?”

Antonio Sanchez said, “Yes, sir. I mean, we only got the information last night. But it seems to check out.”

“Seems to?”
Lieutenant Carey’s blood pressure was rising. “Do you know how powerful this woman is? And you come to me with
seems to
?”

The detectives were silent. Both of them were glad it wasn’t their call. Eventually the lieutenant spoke.

“Bring in the other guy. Kolepp. Let’s talk to him first.”

Detectives Shaw and Sanchez looked at each other nervously.

Lieutenant Carey groaned. “What?”

“We tried, sir. Last night. He’s gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

“To South America, sir. We think. He emptied all his accounts.”

“Shit.” John Carey had been a cop for over thirty years. This sort of thing—billion-dollar frauds, tip-offs from beyond the grave—didn’t happen much in Maine. The contents of Eve Blackwell’s deathbed letter to the police were explosive.
Explosive enough to blow up my career if I screw this up.

“Should we bring Ms. Templeton in, sir?”

Lieutenant Carey thought for a moment. “No, don’t do anything yet. Not till we’re certain. Let’s not forget, Eve Blackwell was as crazy as a June bug. This whole thing could be a hoax.”

He needed time to think. Perhaps this drama was a blessing in disguise? Perhaps, after three thankless decades on the force, the gods were offering him, John Carey, a final shot at fortune and glory?

If it was a hoax and he arrested Lexi Templeton on her wedding day, he’d be a laughingstock.

If it wasn’t, and he didn’t…

At least there was a silver lining in all of this. Carl Kolepp might be able to disappear. But Lexi Templeton had one of the most recognizable faces on the planet.

She’s not going anywhere.

Lexi sat in an upstairs bedroom at Cedar Hill House, thinking. All the noise and clamor downstairs was too much. She had to escape.

I did it! I married Gabe. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

She remembered childhood summers spent in this house. How her father’s grief for her mother had coated everything with a cloying patina of sadness, freezing the Dark Harbor estate in a sepia haze of loss. Except for Peter, who still lived there, rattling around the empty halls like a ghost, all the old generation were gone now:
my mom, Uncle Keith, Aunt Eve. Even Max. Poor Max.

When Father dies, I’m going to strip this place bare and start again. Make it a happy home for Maxine. She’s going to have the childhood I never had.

“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. I didn’t know anybody was in here.” Conchita, one of the housemaids, staggered in with a preposterously large pile of wedding presents and cards. “The gatehouse hasn’t room for any more.” She dumped the pile unceremoniously on the bed.

“These were all left at the gate?”

“Yes, ma’am. It seems a lot of people want to wish you well.”

Lexi sat down and began to unwrap the gifts. Before she knew it, hours had passed. The party downstairs was almost at an end. Some of the presents were expensive: Lalique vases, Tiffany lamps, first editions of Hemingway and Mark Twain. Others were simple, but given from the heart. Lexi was particularly touched by a pottery mug one of the local grade-school kids had made for her, engraved with her wedding date and her and Gabe’s initials intertwined.
Sweet
. By the time she came to the stiff brown envelope, she was starting to get tired.
This’ll be the last one. I’ll open the rest later.

Pulling out the single sheet of paper she recognized her aunt Eve’s handwriting immediately. Thirty seconds later, Lexi knew she would never open her other wedding presents. Her world had changed forever.

Think. You don’t have much time.

What would Kate Blackwell have done?

“Sir, take a look at this.”

Detective Michael Shaw was pointing to numbers on his computer screen. Big numbers.

“These are transfers made from Cedar International to Carl Kolepp’s business account forty-eight hours before Kruger-Brent went under.”

“So?”

“So Kolepp used this money”—Detective Shaw pulled up another screen—“to borrow Kruger-Brent stock from a whole bunch of banks. Which he then sold short, pushing the share price down. But it wasn’t enough. So on the Monday he borrowed a bunch
more
stock. From these guys. DH Holdings.”

“Who the hell is DH Holdings?” Lieutenant Carey frowned.

“It’s no one. It’s a shell. The chairman is one Jennifer Wilson. Who also happens to be the founder, owner and sole shareholder of…” Another screen.

“Don’t tell me. Cedar International?”

The detective nodded. “Jennifer Wilson
is
Lexi Templeton, boss. She’s traded under that name on and off for nearly fourteen years. She even registered it with the SEC.”

So crazy old Eve Blackwell was right. How the hell had she known?

“Shall we bring her in now, sir?”

Lieutenant Carey made a decision.

“Yes. But we need this done discreetly. It’s her wedding day. Half of Congress are up at that house this afternoon. I do
not
want a circus. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir. Clear as day.”

T
WENTY
-N
INE