The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set (53 page)

“They’re there,” George said.
 
“You and your incompetent team of men just haven’t looked hard enough.”

The man’s face flushed.
 
The two uniformed cops standing behind him exchanged glances.
 
“With all due respect, Mr. Redman, we’ve looked damned hard.”

“Bullshit,” George said.
 
“Whoever’s responsible for those lights exploding is responsible for my daughter’s death and they’re still out there.
 
Free.
 
Probably getting ready to do something else to my family.
 
So, why don’t you get off your asses and do something about it before that happens?”

The Lieutenant turned to his men and nodded toward the door.
  
He moved to follow, but then stopped and looked at George.
 
“I understand that you’re upset, Mr. Redman,” he said. “And my heart goes out to you and your family.
 
But nobody here killed your daughter.
 
Keep that in mind next time you talk to us.”

He was gone before George could say another word.

*
  
*
  
*

It was a moment before anyone in the room spoke.

In the distance, George could hear telephones ringing.
 
He imagined his staff saying that Mr. and Mrs. Redman had no comment at this time.

He looked over at Jack.
 
The man was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands.
 
He was shivering
.
 
I know you tried to help her
, he thought.
 
I don’t blame you.

Elizabeth broke the silence.
 
Her features were oddly calm.
 
“We need to be with her, George,” she said.
 
“She’s our daughter and we have to go.
 
I don’t want her there alone.
 
If they’ll let me, I’ll stay the night with her.”

She was in shock.
 
He could see it on her face, hear it in her voice and he wished that there was something he could do or say that would take away her pain.
 
But he wasn’t that clever.

On the table next to Elizabeth, the phone rang.
 
It was their personal line.
 
No one but intimate friends and the immediate family knew the number but themselves.

George reached past Elizabeth and answered it, knowing this would be one of many calls they would take in the coming days.

It was Harold Baines.
 
To George’s surprise, he didn’t mention Celina, but instead told George to quickly turn on a television.
 
George found the remote on a desk and pointed it at the television across the room.
 
He pushed the power button and asked Harold which channel.
 
Harold told him and George was surprised that he was being directed to an entertainment channel.

The sound came on before the picture.

George heard the familiar voice of a woman.
 
Then Leana was on the screen.
 
She was standing beside Michael Archer.

They were holding hands.
 
Their smiles lit the screen.
 
He and Elizabeth and Jack listened as an announcer reported their recent marriage.

Elizabeth put a hand to her mouth.

There was a sound bite.
 
“We’re very happy,” Leana said.

George dropped into a chair.
 
For the first time, he noticed that Leana was wearing a white dress, that Archer was wearing an immaculate charcoal-gray suit.
 
Beyond them were mountains and a harbor filled with white yachts.
 
There, the sun was shining.

“Are you still there?” Harold asked.

“Yes,” George said.

“I wanted you to know before the press caught you off guard again.
 
I’m sure this was taped earlier.
 
They’re obviously in Monte Carlo.
 
That’s the Palace behind them.”

George was silent.

“Has she contacted you yet?” Harold asked.

“I haven’t heard a word from her since the day I threw her out of the Plaza.”

“She doesn’t know what happened to Celina, George.
 
Leana would have called if she’d heard anything.
 
It’s still too soon.”

George said nothing.
 

He hung up the phone at the same moment Elizabeth turned off the television.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“You sure you don’t want something to rest your leg on?”

In the bright, afternoon light, Eric Parker looked across the shiny mahogany desk at Louis Ryan.
 
The man was leaning back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, legs crossed.
 
He was wearing khaki pants, a lightweight cotton sweater and tan moccasins.
 

He was staring at Eric.
 
Although Eric couldn’t be absolutely certain, there was something in Ryan’s eyes that made him wonder if the man really cared if he was uncomfortable or not.

He didn’t want to appear weak.
 
He was sitting in the chair opposite Ryan, his broken leg, newly cast after the other cast was ruined by the water in his apartment, extended painfully to the floor.
 
Not only had his doctor told him to keep the cast dry, but he also told Eric to keep it elevated at all times, which he certainly wasn’t doing now.

I’m batting a thousand
, Eric thought, and he considered asking Ryan for another chair or a hassock.
 
But his pride wouldn’t allow him to.

“I’m fine,” he said, with a forced smile.
 
“Really.”

Louis shrugged.
 
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
 
“But it’s your leg.
 
Do you want a drink before we begin?”

Eric nodded.
 
A shot of booze would do him good right now.
 
Not only did Ryan just call him a liar, but his leg felt as if it was on fire and he was nervous as hell.
 
Earlier, when he phoned Ryan from Diana’s apartment, he did not anticipate meeting so soon with the man.
 
Perhaps in a week, he thought, but not on the day he returned home from the hospital and found his apartment under six inches of water.

Still, he was glad to be here.
 
Not only was the meeting helping to take his mind off his problems at home, but soon Eric would learn why Louis Ryan had been sending him dozens of roses since his arrival at New York Hospital.

“What would you like?” Louis asked, rising.
 
“I have everything.”

“Scotch?”

“Fine.”

He watched Ryan walk to the bar across the room.
  
He wondered what the man wanted from him.
 
Louis knew for years that he had been an executive at Redman International.
 
Was it that?
 
Did Ryan want information of some sort?
 
Or did it have to do with Celina?
 
All of Manhattan knew they were once an item.
 
Did this meeting have something to do with her?
 
Or did it have to do with George?
 
The rivalry between the two men was infamous.
 
With such similar corporations, they were in constant battle with one another and for years the press made it seem as if they were in a private war—which they were.

But while the press made it appear that their hatred for one another stemmed purely from business matters, Eric knew differently.
 
Years ago, in a moment of confidence, Celina told him that George was once thought responsible for the death of Louis’ wife.
 
While Eric himself didn’t believe that George was capable of murder, he never ruled out the possibility.
 
There had been too many times over the years when George’s feelings for Louis Ryan surpassed the point of mere hatred and become something colder, darker and more personal.

He watched Louis pour Scotch into two short glasses of ice.
 
I don’t know why you asked me here
, he thought,
but if you want me bad enough, it’s going to cost you
.

Louis came over with the drinks.
 
Eric accepted his and they touched glasses.
 
“To the future,” Louis said, and they sipped.
 
Eric felt a hot flash of liquid fire shoot down his throat and bloom in his stomach.
 
He took another sip and began to relax.
 
Ryan stepped over to a wall of windows that looked uptown.
 
To Eric, he seemed consumed by The Redman International Building.

Eric leaned forward.
 
The group of reporters he passed earlier were still gathered in front of the building’s entrance.
 
Although he wasn’t sure why they were there, he assumed it had to do with the takeover of WestTex.

“I want you to help me destroy George Redman,” Louis said.

Eric looked at the man, not sure if he had heard him right.
 
Louis was still facing the windows. The sun beating through the glass turned his silvery crown of hair to gold.

“You’ll be paid an obscene amount of money for what little I want from you,” Louis said simply.
 
He left the window and reclaimed his seat.
 
“In fact, even after you pay off your hospital bills, refinish your apartment and replace your neighbor’s paintings and her Henry VIII furniture, you’ll be set for life.”

Eric was speechless.
 
How did Ryan know about his apartment?
 
About the destroyed paintings and furniture?
 
The pipes burst only that morning.

Louis opened a desk drawer and removed a slip of paper.
 
He handed it to Eric and Eric saw that it was a check.
 
His eyebrows rose—the amount was indeed obscene.
 
“And how will I earn this?” he asked.

Louis sat down.
 
“I need you to confirm some information I received concerning the takeover of WestTex Incorporated.
 
All you have to do is copy a few files for me and that check is yours.”

“Confirm?” Eric said.
 
“Then you’ve already been in contact with somebody from Redman International?”

Louis casually waved a hand.

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.
 
What matters is that I don’t trust this person.
 
Unlike yourself, he doesn’t want to see Redman burn.”

So, it’s a man.
 
“What makes you think I do?”

“Because you hate George,” Louis said.
 
“I think we both know that Redman has destroyed your reputation.
 
You couldn’t get a job in this city even if you wanted to flip burgers.
 
It’s also obvious that Redman is behind the pipes bursting in your apartment.
 
He canceled your insurance for a reason.
  
He wants you out of his building and out of New York.”

“How do you know all this?”