Some Like It Lethal (34 page)

"Nora," he said hoarsely. "She's too young to be by herself."

"I'm sorry, Tim."

He brought one trembling hand to his face and covered his eyes. "I'm sorry, too. I hate what I've put Emma through. I just can't—I haven't found the courage to turn myself in."

"I'm sure it was an accident."

"It wasn't." He dropped his hand away. All the color had drained from his face, and he stood rigidly, still holding his champagne flute but stiffly now, as if he had just discovered it was a ticking bomb. "I knew what I was doing. I heard Rush and Gussie arguing, but I didn't go into the stall until Gussie ran out. Rush was furious, and he hit Emma. I'd never seen him like that. I—I went looking for a weapon. When I came back, he was shaking her. Hard. I had to stop him."

"Tim—"

I wanted to pull him out of the ballroom, take him somewhere private, where nobody could overhear us. But I was afraid to touch him. He looked as if he might break like glass.

He said, "Emma was drunk. She couldn't defend herself. I thought Strawcutter was going to hurt her, maybe kill her. He was so desperate, so angry. I hit him with the mallet. I only meant to stop him."

I could imagine Gussie's meltdown, and Rush's helpless rage taken out on the most convenient target: Emma.

"He'd had a fight with his wife," I said. "She'd just learned about the blackmail."

Tim looked at me as if I had just spoken in a new language. "Blackmail?"

"Rush was being blackmailed. That's why he and Gussie were—" I suddenly realized what his shocked expression meant. "Oh, Lord, did you get a blackmail letter? With pictures of you and me?"

"Yes," he whispered, staring at me.  "I  paid. I
couldn't risk another disaster, not with this promotion at stake, so I— My God, I thought it was you."

"You thought I was the blackmailer?" Suddenly his recent behavior made sense. "No wonder you avoided me!"

"Everyone said you were broke and I thought—" He swallowed. "If it wasn't you, who? Who would do such a thing? I can't—" He almost laughed. "Listen to me. I can't understand how anyone could blackmail another person, yet I'm the one who killed Rush Strawcutter."

I took his arm. "Don't say that, Tim. Don't, not yet. Don't tell anyone."

"I have to." His voice was strained. "Emma will be arrested if I don't. Ironic, isn't it? I wanted to save her, and she's the one who ended up ruined."

"She'll come out okay. I'm serious, Tim. Don't say anything to anyone. You have Merrie to think about. If you go to jail, what will happen to her?"

At last tears began to well in his eyes. "I don't know. I don't have any family left. It's just the two of us."

"Then hang on," I said, low-voiced and urgent. I caught hold of his arm. "Just wait. Will you promise me? Say you won't tell anyone yet."

Dazed, Tim said, "God, I don't want to ruin her life, too. All because I had a stupid crush on another woman."

I had no more words of comfort.

"First, do no harm," he said. "That was my oath as a physician. It's so meaningless now."

I heard someone calling my name, but I was afraid to leave Tim. I thought he was in shock. He began to tremble as if overcome by a cold wind.

Lexie slipped through the crowd and grabbed my
elbow. She was laughing. "Nora, you've got to see this. Come on."

Tim turned away from her.

"Really, you've got to come." She jiggled me. "It's hysterical. Claudine's dress is falling off."

Tim staggered away.

Lexie glanced after him. "Has Tim had too much to drink? I never took him for the type."

"Yes, he must be a little drunk."

"Well, come on now. Wait until you see."

She dragged me through guests to the edge of the balustrade. She leaned down and pointed. "See? Claudine is dribbling!"

Sure enough, the Mainbocher dress I had sold Claudine was shedding dozens of tiny beads by the minute. As I predicted, the old fabric was too dry and delicate to wear, and the threads were giving way from the weight of the beads. As Claudine intently lectured Dougie Forsythe, her clothing was slowly disintegrating on her body. Around her, the floor was dancing with flashes of tiny glass droplets.

While Claudine reamed him out, Dougie took a pace back and stepped on the beads. One foot slid out from under him, and he went down on the floor like a circus clown. But he grabbed Claudine to save himself at the last instant, and ripped her sleeve completely off her dress. Mouth open, Claudine stared at the shredded fabric dangling from her wrist.

Other guests began to notice her predicament. A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd.

"Oh, shit!" Claudine held up the torn sleeve. "This damn dress is rotten!"

Dougie scrambled up again, and she snapped, "Give me your coat!"

"But Claudie—"

"Take it off this minute!"

Dougie removed his jacket, whereupon it was immediately apparent that he had used safety pins on the back of the shirt to improve the way it clung to his chest.

Claudine rushed up the marble stairs to leave, and she spotted me in the crowd. "You! You sold me a worthless sack!"

"She told you not to wear it, Claudine," Lexie spoke up. "She told you it was too fragile, but you wanted to buy it anyway."

Claudine pointed at me. "I want that dress! Give me that one!"

I melted back into the laughing crowd. Around me, people seemed to surge into a blurred mass. For an instant, I thought I was blacking out. But through the tide of people, I saw a familiar scarf and my attention sharpened. I craned my neck to get a better look and suddenly found myself staring into Hadley Pinkham's smugly smiling face. He raised a glass of champagne to me.

I spun around and shoved through a knot of surprised guests, making my way to the staircase. Halfway up, I encountered a waiter and told him what I needed. He dashed up the stairs, and I went back down into the crowd.

I found Hadley again, chatting in his most mocking tones to a young man I didn't know. He saw me and turned.

"Kitten," he said, feigning surprised delight. "What a fragile beauty you look tonight. Sweet heaven, is that Patou? It's a masterpiece, but it pales beside your loveliness this evening."

"Did you crash the gate tonight, Hadley?"

His companion blanched and eased away.

Hadley said, "Let's not get ugly, kitten. Not in public, anyway."

"I'd like to shout it from the rooftops, but breaking into a party uninvited seems so petty, doesn't it? Compared to everything else you've done."

"Lower your voice, please."

"Afraid I'll make a scene? And spoil your reputation as the smoothest operator in town?"

"Kitten—"

"I don't need to make a scene, Hadley. Because you're about to make one all by yourself."

We were surrounded then by men in uniform. Ben Bloom was with them.

"Hadley Pinkham?" Bloom reached for Hadley's wrist. "You're under arrest."

"For crashing a party?" Hadley objected. "This is ridiculous."

The dinner gong sounded and the guests around us began to move toward the dining room. Everyone glanced curiously at Hadley as the police officers took him into custody, but nobody had the bad manners to ask what the problem was.

Hadley's affront began to give way into something more mortified. "Kitten," he said. "What have you done?"

"Not nearly enough," I replied.

The police took him away in a degrading parade that even Hadley couldn't carry off with panache. Only a few party guests glanced up to watch his humiliated exit. Politely, everyone else moved away. Perhaps Hadley's worst punishment was this: society's cool rejection of his offensive behavior. I intended to make sure he would be shunned by everyone forever.

Suddenly, I didn't want to stay. The thought of having dinner and remaining to dance and drink was all
wrong. While the throng moved toward the dining room, I ran for the staircase like Cinderella leaving the ball.

I telephoned Reed from the lobby.

"Call Michael?" I said. "Ask him to come for me."

Without pause, Reed said, "He'll be there in five minutes."

I ran to the cloakroom to get my wrap, and when I came out again a waiter walked by, still carrying a tray of champagne. I accepted a glass and wished him Merry Christmas.

Flute in hand, I headed across the hotel lobby and realized the man waiting for me by the door was Ben Bloom. He couldn't stop himself from looking me up and down.

I said, "Are you going to stay for the party?"

He didn't smile, but met my eye. "No, they're going to book Pinkham now. I thought I'd go along."

"On what charges?"

"Animal cruelty, like you said. And the city's got him for the parking tickets. The son of a bitch owes almost fifteen thousand dollars in parking fines."

"Will that keep him in jail?"

"Not for long. We'll need something else to hold him."

With determination, I nodded. "Okay."

"You going to give me a clue?"

"No, I need time to think, that's all. And to convince some people to help. If you can hold him for a day or two, I'll see what I can put together to help indict him on extortion charges. Meanwhile, there's someone you need to call. Her name is Thomasina Silk. You might remember her from the hunt breakfast. She has some information you will want to hear."

"What information?"

"It won't mean as much coming from me. Call her."

Our business was concluded. But neither of us was ready to leave. The music from the party below was muted but rose to us, sounding sentimental and meaningless. Ben looked like a kid who'd lost his favorite pencil box.

He spoke first. "Nora." He no longer sounded like a policeman. "I'm sorry about what happened."

"With Hadley?"

"You know what I mean. I came on too fast. I thought you were ready. I assumed too much."

"It was my fault," I said. "I was feeling confused that day."

He touched my bare arm. "What about now?"

"Now I'm going home," I said. I didn't believe the naive act he put on anymore, but I didn't blame him for trying it. He had a job to do, after all, and he'd hit upon a technique that worked for him. Just not with me. I smiled up at him. "Good night, Detective."

The doorman opened the door, and I went out into the night. There was a church across the street with an old car illegally parked and idling in its shadow. With the champagne still in my hand and the cashmere wrap over my arm, I dashed across the street, oblivious to the cold.

He was sitting on the church steps, surrounded by kernels of rice. He wore a dark suit with the tie loosened around his neck.

Breathless, I stopped at the bottom of the steps.

He said, "Should I go looking for your glass slipper, princess?"

"I'll save you the trouble." I kicked off one shoe and tossed it to him.

He caught it one-handed. "Does the rest of that outfit come off so easily?"

"No. I'm going to need some help."

He lifted his chin to indicate the hotel behind me. "Detective Gloom is watching from across the street."

"Shall we give him something to see?"

Michael got up and came down to the sidewalk, taking off his coat. I went up one step, and he slung the coat around my shoulders. Then we were nose to nose, and I suddenly felt as if I'd had far too much champagne. I gave him the glass and slipped my arms around his neck.

He drained the glass in two swallows. When the champagne was gone, he wrapped one arm around me and smiled. "I made my first million today."

His smile filled me with pleasure. "You did?"

"Yep. So where do you want to go? Venice? Fiji?"

I tried to match the lightness of his tone. "Did you make your million by selling old cars? Or gasoline? Or was it truffles?"

He laughed then, and looked very pleased with himself. "There's money in all of it. How did you guess about the truffles?"

"It's taken months, but I'm finally starting to understand how your mind works. And Rawlins let it slip that you were in Paris."

"I made a little detour on the way home from Scotland. The fishing wasn't all that good, anyway. Wrong time of year."

"So that's what you were delivering to the restaurant? A package of truffles?"

"Did you think it was cash? That I was laundering money? I brought some truffles— illegally, yes, but I have all the right permits now."

"I didn't know what to think, then," I said with complete honesty. "The FBI has been under the impression you were illegally moving currency in and out
of bank accounts. But I checked my calendar and it turns out you were making risotto in my kitchen."

"Nora," he said, finally serious, "you shouldn't have talked to the FBI. Tomorrow your name will be in the papers with mine, so you know what everybody's going to think. You've put yourself in harm's way for me. You'll never live it down."