Authors: Cindy Davis
Final Masquerade (28 page)
"I'm glad that, for once, my timing was right on. I'm Miles Young."
"Thank you again."
"De nada. Did anyone ever tell you, you have the most beautiful chestnut eyes?"
"Is that the line you use on every female you save from falling in the slush?"
"Well, only if they have rapturous chestnut eyes. I have another line I use on blue-eyed beauties."
"And, what's that?"
"I'll let you know when I think of it."
"Does that mean I'm going to see you again?"
"I hope so. But right now, I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'm late for court."
"Are you the defendant or the plaintiff?"
"Defense attorney."
Where was he when she needed a lawyer?
"What are you doing tonight?"
"There's a bookshop at the end of that alley. We're having a Christmas party there tonight."
"What time?"
"Seven?"
"I'll see you then. Anything I should know? Like, is it a costume ball?"
"No costumes."
Paige watched Miles hurry away, a smile touching the corners of her mouth. She gazed up between the towering cement and glass skyscrapers watching the flakes tumble from the clouds. She breathed deeply, trying to separate the smell of snow from other city smells and frowned when she couldn't. Heavy thick flakes lit on her upturned face and melted with a feathery, tickling sensation. Her first snowfall, a date with a lawyer, a plan to get out of her situation; life couldn't get any better.
She was so lost in thought she nearly bumped into the ladder at the entrance to the alley. The sound of an electric drill startled her.
"There. Done,” came a voice from above.
Overhead, swinging from a black cast iron hanger was a sign—white, etched in gold and black. It said Baumgartner & Lawson Books. As she wiped the tears away, she spotted Polly, arms wrapped around her tiny waist, wiping tears of her own that made dimpled tracks down her floured cheeks.
"I'm speechless,” Polly whispered.
"Where is he?"
"Inside. He wanted it to be done by the time you got back."
"The timing was perfect.” Paige slipped past Polly.
Before stepping into the store, she knuckled away the last of the tears. Inside, several customers milled in the aisles. To her right, perched on the counter was a tiny Christmas tree. Its white lights twinkled even in the bright lighting of the shop. Several gaily-wrapped packages were already propped underneath it.
Paige heard Max's voice a couple of aisles away. “Get a load of these end papers, and look at Chekhov's signature. Still as sharp as the day he scribbled it. Your daughter couldn't want for a nicer Christmas gift.” An indecipherable response from the customer then Max said, “I think you've made a fine choice. I'll wrap it for you."
Max lumbered around the corner, a smile spread across his rugged face. Paige rushed forward and hugged him, her arms barely making it half way around him. “Thank you,” she whispered.
"'S nothin',” he said, stepping quickly away.
Paige watched him wrap the book and converse with the customer, marveling at the progress he'd made. He wasn't smoking as much as he had either. For that Paige was especially happy. She didn't bother trying to tell him what it did to his health. She simply used the ‘it makes the books smell like shit’ theme.
Paige walked around
her
store putting a few last minute touches on the party plans. She restrung a section of garland and twisted in a new bulb on the stairway. A long narrow table had been set up in front of the windows. A red linen tablecloth borrowed from Polly, was set with a tall pair of silver candelabra, also on loan from Polly. A beautiful birch and pine centerpiece had arrived earlier that morning. The card read
Merry First Christmas, Harry
. It had been addressed to both of them.
As the last customer left, the caterers arrived. Three white-clad men carrying food trays, which they delicately placed on the long table. They removed taut plastic wrappings to reveal a myriad of finger foods, scallops wrapped in bacon, goat cheese canapés, six varieties of cheese and crackers, tiny tuna and crab sandwiches. One man carried a large bowl of fruit and vegetable wedges.
"My word,” Paige said. “There's enough food here to satisfy Ethiopia. We only needed enough for fifteen or so."
"Looks delicious,” said Max, standing with his chubby finger poised to steal a morsel.
Paige slapped his hand.
"All right, all right. What time is it? Are we ready?"
"Calm down. Could you go make sure the bathroom is clean while I double check out here?"
"Why give me the dirty work?"
"It's not dirty work, I cleaned it earlier. Just make sure you didn't leave all kinds of greasy fingerprints around."
She smiled listening to him grumble his way to the bathroom. Drink or no drink, tobacco or no tobacco, Max still grumbled. She thought it delightful.
Polly was the first to arrive. She wore a blue floor-length skirt and white embroidered sweater. She handed Paige a large, square package, which she laid beside the tree.
Paige grasped both of Polly's hands and told her how pretty she looked. “This is the first time I've seen you
not
coated in flour or sugar."
More people arrived at that moment, including Miles, who stepped inside, kicking snow off on the doorframe. He carried a small orchid corsage, which he handed to her with a gallant flourish.
Polly rushed forward to pin it to Paige's dress, whispering, “Where'd you find that one?"
"I bumped into him out in the street."
"I'll see you later. I'm going to see if I can find one like him."
Paige laughed when Polly faked a move toward her coat. She pushed the button for the CD player and Christmas music replaced the usual classical chords. She filled a plate with food and went to the reading nook to find Miles. He took her plate, placed it on the table then grabbed her around the waist and twirled her in an abbreviated version of the tango. Polly clapped to the beat of
Rocking Christmas Eve
. When Miles finally let Paige go, she was huffing and laughing. She leaned against a shelf unit catching her breath.
"You certainly sweep a girl off her feet!"
Max arrived carrying a tall glass of eggnog sprinkled with nutmeg. He took a long swig, savoring the thick richness with a smack of his tongue.
"What a party, huh Max?” she asked.
He nodded, a rare smile reaching his lips.
"Is Harry here yet? I want to thank him for the beautiful centerpiece he sent."
"Haven't seen him."
"I'm going to call and see what's keeping him. I'm dying to meet his wife."
"By the way, while you were gone, a man was here looking for you."
Paige stopped smiling. “What did he look like?"
"Gray hair. Kind of distinguished looking—like a banker maybe."
Burt. Paige didn't hear his next words. She felt the blood drain from her face and she grabbed for a stable object. Her plate thudded to the floor. Max reached for her as she slid downward. He propped her against the narrow windowsill.
Sounds penetrated her fog: Miles saying, “Get her a chair."
Polly asking, “What on earth happened?"
A chair scraped on the hardwood floor. Strong hands guided her to a sitting position.
Max kneeled in front of her and leveled worried eyes into hers. “Okay?"
Paige couldn't respond. Voices amalgamated in her head.
"Should we call an ambulance?"
"What happened?"
"Did she fall?"
"No, she fainted."
Miles’ face appeared over Max's shoulder. “Are you all right?"
She nodded.
"She's all right, everyone. You can go back to enjoying the party,” Max called.
"What happened?” Miles asked.
Paige asked Max, “What was his name?"
"He didn't say. Only that—"
The sounds of shattering glass and splintering wood came from the front of the room.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry,” a male voice said.
"Max! Can you help here?” someone called.
"I'll be right back.” He and Miles raced to the front of the shop.
"Would you get me a glass of water please?” Paige asked Polly.
As soon as she disappeared, so did Paige.
Paige ran the four blocks to her apartment, barely able to see two feet ahead of herself, slipping in the already ankle deep snow. She entered through a rear door and into the freight elevator.
In her twelfth floor lobby, everything was quiet. She tiptoed down the hall until a neighbor exited his unit and walked toward her.
"Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you too. Mr. Ellery, have you seen any strangers lurking about my apartment?"
"Lurking? No, I haven't seen anyone lurking. Is something wrong?"
"No, I guess I'm just being paranoid. Have a nice holiday. Be careful, it's slippery outside."
"Pretty though, isn't it?"
In her foyer, Paige slipped off her boots, forehead moist with sweat, listening for sounds, looking for Spirit, who always ran, meowing, to greet her owner. No cat. No human footprints in the pile of her freshly vacuumed carpet, though. No sounds other than the low hum of the refrigerator motor. No sensations of strangers in the apartment.
"Spirit?” she whispered. Nothing.
She called a little louder, wiping the beads from beneath her bangs. An answering meow came from the bedroom and her sleepy-eyed friend padded into the room. “Meow,” she said, placing her front paws on Paige's knee, kneading it with her claws. Paige picked her up. Together they searched the apartment.
In the bedroom, Paige punched the telephone buttons. “Harry, it's me. Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"They're here. Stefano's men. They're at the shop."
"Where are you now?"
"My apartment. It doesn't look like they've been here yet."
Paige shifted from one foot to another, listening to Harry's instructions to get the hell out of there.
She perched on the edge of the bed to dial again. “Hello. I need a cab at 433 South 7th, as soon as possible. Thanks."
Paige tossed things into her suitcase. She patted a large brimmed hat on her head, tucking her hair up inside. She pushed the protesting cat into the carrier and left the apartment.
There were a few stragglers on the sidewalk. Most people had headed home when the storm hit. People walked with their heads down, away from the bite of the wind, which had begun to blow considerably. No one seemed to be concerned with the frazzled woman carrying baggage and a cat carrier.
A black and white cab slid to a halt in front of her building. She stepped cautiously into the open, glancing in all directions. The cabbie tooted twice as she grasped the passenger door handle. Her foot slipped off the sidewalk. Wet muck overflowed the top of her boot. Paige pushed the cat and suitcase across the seat and slid in beside them. She reached a finger inside the boot and plucked out the clump of snow.
"Where to, lady?"
"The State Theater."
Harry was waiting in the doorway of the theater. He paid the cabbie and took Spirit's carrier from the seat. They trudged a block and a half to the Marriott Hotel. He pushed a key into her hand. “The elevator is straight ahead. I've registered you under my sister's name. Harriet Blado. You're on the 9th floor. I'll be up in just a minute. I'll tap twice sharply on your door. Don't open it to anyone else."
In the 9th floor hallway, Paige waited until she was alone, took off her hat, glanced at the numbers on the room key, then at the small etched sign on the wall. She turned left and walked down the long corridor, praying no one else would come along until she was safely in her room.
Inside, she paced the floor waiting for Harry. It was only five minutes before he tapped on her door, but it seemed like an eternity. Harry placed Spirit's cage on the carpet and popped the latch open.
Paige continued pacing, wringing her hands. “Now what do we do? Oh, Harry, I'm so scared."
"Calm down. Calm down.” He sat on the bed and patted the spread beside him.
She sat and he laid a comforting arm around her shoulders. “It's going to be okay. I had this emergency plan in my head.” He shook his head and slapped his palm on the bed. “I really wanted the opportunity to put our long range plan into action. I know it would have worked. Tell me what happened."
"After I left your office, I went back to the store. I was feeling so hopeful. Until Max said someone was looking for me, that is, someone he didn't recognize. I took off."
Harry glanced at his watch. “I think I'll go ‘round and see if they're still partying. Maybe I can get a description of the guy. Think Max will remember?"
"Yes, he hasn't had a drink in weeks. I've been so proud of him.” She burst into tears and was inconsolable for several minutes. Harry patiently sat beside her, his hand covering hers.
"You know what he did? He had a new sign made and he put my name with his."
"Which name is that?"
Paige couldn't keep the smile from her face. Then she laughed nervously. “So, what
do
we do next?"
"You stay here tonight. I'll stop at a pay phone on the way home and make flight reservations in Harriet's name. In the morning I'll meet you at the bank. They're open until noon on Saturdays. We'll get your money, and you'll be on your way."
"You make it sound so simple."
"If you can control your nerves, it will be easy. You'll see. Let me do the work. You just go along for the ride. Or, the flight, as the case may be.” Harry dialed room service. He ordered a bottle of Pinot Noir, a spinach salad, and a medium rare steak.
When he hung up, he said, “I'll wait here till it arrives. I will open the door. You will be in the bathroom. No one is to see you. Not for
any
reason. After I'm gone, if anyone knocks on the door, don't answer it. Understand?"
He reached inside his briefcase and pulled out a small package. Inside was a long brunette wig. “I got these a few weeks ago. Wear this in the morning without the hat. There's also some makeup here. Put on a little more than you usually would, but don't look like a tart. Don't do anything to draw attention to yourself. Meet me at the bank in the morning—11:30."