At least you still have each other, Ranger thought bitterly.
It reminded Ranger of when he and Judy visited Parker Bennett’s office. Comfortable chairs, not formal or anything. Parker would have his secretary bring in a tray of coffee and assorted muffins. While they were eating they would listen to Parker as he boasted that he was the broker for people who did not understand the financial world. He would see to it that they would be comfortable in their retirement years, far more comfortable than what their savings could yield in the bank at a mere 1 or 2 percent interest.
Ranger could still see Judy smiling gratefully at Parker, flattered that he had taken them on as clients. She had dared to dream of a future of comfort and security with Ranger and perhaps some small luxuries.
After we signed up with him, we kept putting more and more of our savings into his fund. We economized. We saved to give him more money. A small sacrifice now for a wonderful payday down the road; that’s what we believed. That was what he convinced us it would be.
The voices had begun again. Voices sometimes soothing, often terrifying. He remembered first hearing them when he was a teenager. At times they roared at him like a howling beast from hell. Then Judy came into his life. His beloved Judy. The voices had dulled and then gone silent. He had thought they were gone forever but then they came back. He wondered what Dr. Cunningham’s reaction would be if he knew that he kept a loaded gun in his apartment.
He had come to like the feel of the gun in his hands. He had practiced loading and unloading it. For the past week he had been going to a shooting range. He was sure that by now he was as good a shot as any cop on the force.
When it was Ranger’s turn to speak he did his best to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He told the group about Judy’s stroke. “It happened just days after we found out that we had been wiped out.
“I used to carry her in my arms to the bathroom,” he whispered. “I didn’t mind. I loved her. I would have done anything for her. My only prayer was that she would stay with me. Then a month ago she had another stroke and died.”
“She couldn’t stay with you, Ranger,” Sean interjected gently. “She was just too ill.”
“I wanted to be close to Judy so I put her ashes in something I could wear around my neck,” he continued, watching the unwanted sympathy in the expressions of his listeners. “But now I only wear it at night. That way I don’t feel so alone.”
Cunningham was nodding like he was approving of what he was saying.
If you only knew, doctor. Ranger closed his lips to stop the laugh he could feel coming on.
The last member of the group was finishing his boring story. Some old guy, he was so broke that Meals on Wheels brought him breakfast and dinner five days a week.
When it was time to go Ranger thanked Dr. Cunningham and assured him again that he was doing well. It was ten minutes of five. In another ten minutes Eric Bennett would be leaving his office. A couple of times now Ranger had watched from down the block to see Eric coming in the morning and leaving in the afternoon. Eric’s apartment was not far from his office. He usually walked to and from work.
I could pick him off any time I wanted, Ranger thought. But that would be a mistake. I’d never get a chance at his mother. They’re living on my money right now. Mine and Judy’s. The anger inside him was again boiling over.
When he went outside there was a light snow falling. He liked the feel of it under his shoes. He barely noticed the people who were on the street hurrying home at the end of the day. He was walking toward Eric Bennett’s office building. He stood outside it. Fifteen minutes later Eric came out the revolving door. Ranger let him get half a block ahead and then began to follow him.
This time Eric didn’t go straight home to his apartment. He stopped at a bar on West Thirteenth Street and was joined by a couple of men his age. Peering through the window Ranger watched as they laughed together.
Having a good time? He seethed. Not for much longer, I promise you. Not for much longer. He walked the two miles back to his apartment. Without taking off his coat, he sat down on his couch. Eric is staying in the city tonight. That means he’ll go visit his mother tomorrow night, Ranger reasoned. I’ll park down the block from his garage and follow him to New Jersey.
It’s fun to follow him, a voice whispered. His father had control of you and every dollar you ever saved but now you have control of him. Whenever you want you can aim the gun at him and watch him die.
Ranger realized he had not taken off his still-damp overcoat. He got up, shrugged out of it, and dropped it on the couch.
He hadn’t eaten any lunch but he wasn’t hungry. Judy never drank. When she was alive he had had only the occasional beer or scotch. Now he got up, walked into the kitchen to get a glass, and opened a bottle of scotch. He sat down again on the couch and poured the scotch into the glass. He filled it to the top. There was even a little that spilled over on the table. He began to drink.
Two hours later, the bottle empty, he fell asleep on the couch, his still-damp overcoat covering him.
51
On Tuesday night Ranger followed Eric’s car to New Jersey. To his surprise Eric did not drive to his mother’s house but instead turned off the highway in a town called Verona and stopped at a restaurant.
He doesn’t know me, Ranger thought. I can eat dinner here. I’m dressed okay.
He went into the restaurant. He could see into the dining room where Eric was sitting. He asked the hostess for a corner table near the window. That way he would be able to see Eric knowing that if he wanted to, he could kill him right now.
A couple of minutes later a really good-looking broad joined Eric. With loathing, Ranger watched as Eric stood up and kissed her. Was she the one in the car that day when he was driving past his mother’s town house? he wondered. When Eric and this girlfriend sat down they began smiling and talking while he sat alone. He noticed another man by himself at a table near them. The rest of the room was filling with couples and small groups. Everyone appeared to be having a real good time and real thrilled to be together. The more people that came in, the lonelier and angrier he felt. He did not taste his meal; his focus was on Eric and his girlfriend.
When Eric signaled for his check, Ranger did the same. He had parked his car across the street. He sure wasn’t going to bring his old wreck to be valet parked. Then, sitting in it, he watched as the valet pulled up with the girlfriend’s car first and then Eric’s. Ranger was surprised to see them in separate cars.
He followed the girlfriend as she drove into Manhattan and watched her pull into the garage at 240 West Fifty-Sixth Street.
He was about to drive away when he saw her coming up the ramp. Where is she going? He was planning to follow her but then she walked to the very next building and the doorman stepped aside to let her in.
Nice building. We never had a doorman. But you have one. Maybe Eric’s paying for your apartment. He bought you a fancy dinner, but it was on me.
Ranger’s anger had a new target.
The pretty young woman with long reddish hair who had been grinning happily at Eric Bennett.
52
Rudy Schell received an interesting phone call from a lawyer he knew by reputation and did not like. He considered Derek Landry the kind of attorney who gave the legal profession a bad name. Landry had represented many high-powered people who got in trouble taking or giving kickbacks. He had an astonishingly high success rate at getting his clients exceptionally good deals.
To receive a phone call from him was an unwelcome surprise. Landry was asking for a meeting on a most urgent matter, a matter he knew Rudy would be keenly interested in. “It concerns Parker Bennett.”
It was an effort for Rudy to keep his voice noncommittal. “I certainly will make time for you, Mr. Landry. When would you like to meet?”
“This afternoon.”
“Three o’clock?” Rudy suggested.
“See you then.”
When Derek Landry arrive
d at Rudy’s promptly at the stroke of three, Rudy took him into one of the private offices used for face-to-face meetings.
He closed the door and gestured for Derek to sit down.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Landry?” he asked.
“This is a very delicate matter,” Landry replied, his tone hushed. “I have a client who is most reliable, who will be able to assist you in locating Parker Bennett.”
“Reliable?” Rudy asked.
“Absolutely. But we insist on complete anonymity. I am not authorized to provide details unless and until you express interest in our proposal. My client also wants the reward money and a guarantee of full immunity from prosecution. I can assure you that my client played no role whatsoever in the Parker Bennett fraud scheme. My client, under threat from Parker Bennett, has been forced to accept a very small percent of the proceeds of the fraud after Mr. Bennett disappeared.”
“What you are asking for is a tall order, Mr. Landry. Ordinarily I would have to know the name of your client before considering your offer. If your client’s role is exactly as you describe it, then yes, I will consider it. And as I am sure you know, a decision such as this must go through the highest channels before an answer can be given.”
“Of course.” Derek smiled. “I hope to hear from you soon, Mr. Schell. I will see myself out.”
53
On Wednesday morning Lane went to work, her mind filled with what Eric had told her the night before. Once again, it had been so very pleasant. She could not deny the chemistry that was developing between them. In this past week alone the attraction between them had grown ever stronger. She certainly felt it and she was sure it was not one-sided. Once again he had expressed his feelings for her. Yet so many people thought he had been involved with his father in the theft.
Dwight absolutely despised him. But why? It wasn’t fair that he would never give any reason for feeling that way.
I can’t love somebody and get hurt again, she thought, remembering the heartbreak of losing her father and then Ken. Katie can’t get hurt either. Even though Katie had not seen Eric for several weeks, she had asked about him just this morning.
But fortunately, Glady’s mood had improved greatly.
“I can have the art and sculptures picked up from La-di-da’s apartment if I don’t receive her payment,” she said. “It’s absolutely against the policy of the Greer Company to take back anything they sold, but they recognize the fact that I have purchased there for many clients over the years.”
“I’m so glad. That was really nice of them,” Lane said enthusiastically.
“Well it certainly doesn’t hurt them to cut me some slack. They’ve made a fortune on the people I’ve brought there,” Glady said. “I’ve earned every cent. That dump was a cluttered mess, a tribute to bad taste, until I got my hands on it.”
I think I’ve heard that before, Lane thought, but she did agree and gave Glady the reassurance she wanted. “Glady, it’s one of your finest projects. That apartment is inviting and beautiful.”
Later that day they were in the office when a phone call came in from FBI agent Rudy Schell asking both of them to please come into his office at their earliest convenience.
Holding the phone in her hand, Glady went into Lane’s office. “An FBI agent wants to see us,” she said. “Have you any appointments tomorrow?”
“Nothing I can’t change,” Lane answered.
“Well this should be interesting,” Glady said. “I’ll bet my next commission check that this is about Her Royal Nothing, the countess, and I also bet it has something to do with Parker Bennett.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Lane said even as she feared it might also be about Eric.
“And didn’t I say she still may be involved with him?” Glady continued. “Didn’t I tell you that?”
“Yes you did, Glady. Yes you did.”
That evening over dinner Katie told Lane about how her teacher told her that she was going to be a wonderful artist someday. “That’s what I tell you, Katie!” Lane said, hoping her daughter would not notice how preoccupied she was.
“And I have a special surprise for you and I want to show you right now,” Katie said excitedly. “May I please?”
“Of course.” Lane smiled indulgently.
She listened to Katie’s hurried footsteps as she ran down the hallway to her room. When she returned, she was holding a piece of canvas about the size of a legal envelope.
“Let me see,” Lane said, a genuine smile on her face.
She looks so much like Ken, Lane thought as Katie hugged the canvas with a happy smile. Of course that red hair is from my side but her eyes and the shape of her face are just like his. The anniversary of his death was only a few days away. Her mind continued to be filled with the memories of their brief life together and what might have been if he had lived.
Then slowly, dramatically, Katie turned the canvas and proudly displayed it.
“Does it look like Daddy?” she asked excitedly. “I took the picture from your dresser to school with me every day last week but I brought it home every day and put it right back. That was okay, wasn’t it?”
Lane stared, unable to speak over the lump in her throat. It was certainly a child’s artistic re-creation but it was Ken just the same.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “It looks just like him. He would be so proud of you.”
“Am I like him?” Katie asked, her voice suddenly wistful.
“Yes, you are.” Lane stood up, folded her in her arms, careful not to crush the precious canvas. Then she took it from Katie and laid it carefully at the end of the table.
When they both sat down and began to eat, she said, “Your daddy used to tell me that when he was your age, he loved to draw and paint. I still have a few pictures that he did when he was in the first grade. I’m going to find them and show them to you.”
Later, when Katie was in bed, Lane sat in the living room with no desire to turn on the television. She had an unsettled feeling because the timing of this picture just before the anniversary of Ken’s death was coupled with trying to sort out her feelings about Eric. Where was all of this going? What would Ken think about her relationship with Eric? Was Eric the kind of man Ken would approve of as a stepfather for Katie? She knew it was inevitable that if she kept seeing Eric their relationship would move to the next level.
Last night was proof of that. At the end of their dinner Eric told her again how much he cared about her.
“Lane, I’m thirty-seven years old,” he began. “I’ve had my share of relationships. But there was always something missing. I’ve always known something more was waiting for me.
“And now, with you, I’ve found it.”
54
Once again Lane did not sleep very well that night. The next afternoon, at three o’clock, she and Glady arrived at Rudy Schell’s office.
Rudy escorted them into one of the conference rooms and, after offering them coffee, came right to the point.
“Ms. Harper,” he said to Glady. “How much longer will you be working at Countess de la Marco’s apartment?”
“It will be another few weeks before the last of the details are completed,” Glady answered.
“Has she been paying you regularly?” Rudy continued.
“She was. But she owes me two million dollars now. She claims she’ll have it in a few days. I can tell she’s stalling for time. If she doesn’t come through very soon, I’m having some paintings and sculptures removed, and that of course lowers my commission.” Glady’s tone was clearly annoyed.
Rudy nodded. “The fact that she may be running out of cash is exactly what I expected to hear,” he said, a note of satisfaction in his voice.
“And why is that?” Glady asked. “Are you a mind reader?”
Always that touch of sarcasm with Glady, Lane thought.
“I wish I were a mind reader. I could have solved many cases a lot faster and with a lot less hard work.” Rudy’s t
one was businesslike. “Ms. Harper, Ms. Harmon, are you aware that the countess was rumored to be Parker Bennett’s mistress?”
“Rumored!” Glady laughed. “Of course she was. Everybody knows that.”
“Parker Bennett’s body was never found but we think it is entirely possible, even probable, that he staged his disappearance. I understand that you have been in and out of her apartment regularly these past weeks. Do you think she might have been in touch with Bennett?”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” Glady answered. “The first time I told her how much it would cost to decorate the apartment, she excused herself and left the room to make a phone call. When she came back, she gave us the go-ahead. I think she was talking to her version of Santa Claus.”
“Good analogy,” Rudy observed. “Then you do believe it’s a possibility?”
“Possibility, sure. Probability, maybe,” Glady replied.
“Recently on Page Six in the Post there was an item about the countess having dinner with Barclay Cameron,” Rudy said.
“You read the Post,” Glady commented. “I would think you were too busy to waste time on Page Six. I saw that item as well. The countess and Barclay Cameron were an item some years ago. My guess is she’s trying to rekindle the flame because something has happened to her cash flow.”
“Ms. Harper, you seem to be very knowledgeable about the countess’s activities,” Schell observed dryly.
“When you are an interior designer for the kind of clientele I have, you hear a great deal of gossip,” Glady snapped.
Schell turned to Lane. “Ms. Harmon, you have been seeing Eric Bennett?”
Astonished, Lane said, “I have had dinner with him a few times. “Why do you care about that?”
“I have made it my business to be aware of Bennett’s activities and now I will tell you both why I asked you here today. We believe we may be getting closer to apprehending Parker Bennett. We believe the countess is in touch with him. We have always believed that Eric Bennett was involved in his father’s fraud.”