Three Fates (56 page)

“Calm yourself, Anita.” His tone all comfort, Stefan got to his feet. A servant approached and apologized for the interruption.

Stefan took the envelope the servant held out, then dismissed him.

“Anita, you have a telegram.”

She whirled back, the heels of her sandals clicking on the tile.

Ordinarily he would have excused himself to give a guest privacy, but he refused to miss the moment and stood nearby, watching as she ripped open the telegram. And read.

Stefan had the pleasure of hearing her strangled scream as she balled the telegram in her fist. “I hope this is not bad news.”

“I have to get back to New York. Right away.” The color was back in her face, and raging.

“Of course. I’ll make the arrangements for you. If there’s anything I can do—”

“I’ll do it,” she said between her teeth. “You’d better believe I’ll do it.”

He waited until she’d stormed away, rushing in the direction of the house. Then he sat, picked up his drink, took out his cell phone.

He enjoyed a grape while he made the call.

“Jack. I’ll have a very angry woman on my private jet within two hours. No, no,” he said, chuckling as he chose another grape. “It’s been, my friend, and continues to be, my very great pleasure.”

 

 

SHE GOT HOME to a pile of messages, many of which were from the police and only served to irritate her. She’d spent the hours in the air devising ways she would dispose of Malachi—all of which ended in his bloody, painful death.

As satisfying as all of them were, Anita was smart enough, and still controlled enough, to know it was essential to find the right time, the right place and the right method.

She wanted him dead, but she wanted the Fates even more.

She ordered her servants out of the house. She wanted the place empty. She showered, changed, then contacted Jasper. She broke one of her own cardinal rules by ordering him to come to her home.

She was dissatisfied with his work and considered disposing of him. It would, she imagined, be simple enough to make it look like a break-in attempt, mock up signs of a struggle. With her clothes torn a bit, a few handy bruises, no one would question her, a woman alone, defending her home and her person with one of her dead husband’s guns.

Remembering how it had felt to pull the trigger, to see Dubrowsky stumble, fall, die, she knew the act would be a great stress reliever.

But she’d had enough of the police for a while. And, added to that, Jasper might yet come in handy. She couldn’t afford the luxury of cutting him loose quite yet.

He came, as instructed, to the rear entrance. She gestured him in, then walked directly to the library. Appreciating the value of position, she sat behind the desk. “Close the door,” she said coolly.

When his back was turned she took the gun she’d placed in the drawer and set it in her lap. Just in case.

“I’m not pleased with your work, Mr. Jasper.” She held up a finger before he could speak. “Nor am I interested in your excuses. I’ve paid you, and paid you well, for your particular skills and talents. In my opinion, they’ve been sadly lacking.”

“You haven’t given me a hell of a lot to go on.”

She sat back. After the long flight it was energizing to feel the fury, the violence pumping out of him. Better, she thought, than drugs. He believed he was stronger, more dangerous. And had no idea he was only one finger twitch away from death.

“Are you criticizing me, Mr. Jasper?”

“Look, you don’t think I’m doing the job, fire me.”

“Oh, I’ve considered that.” She stroked a fingertip over the cold steel of the nine-millimeter in her lap. “I’m a businesswoman, and when an employee does unsatisfactory work, that employee is terminated.”

“No skin off my nose.”

She saw his body shift. She knew he carried a gun under his suit jacket. Was he considering using it on her? she wondered. To intimidate, to rob, perhaps to rape? Thinking she’d be helpless against him, and unable to go to the police.

The idea was absolutely thrilling.

“However, as a businesswoman I also believe in giving employees certain incentives in the hopes their work will improve. I’m going to offer you an incentive.”

“Yeah.” He relaxed his gun arm. “Such as?”

“A twenty-five-thousand-dollar bonus if you find and deliver to me a man named Malachi Sullivan. He’s in the city, possibly in the company of Cleo Toliver. You remember Cleo, don’t you, Mr. Jasper?” She purred it. “She’s managed to slip through your fingers a number of times. If you deliver both of them, I’ll double that bonus. I don’t care what kind of shape they’re in, as long as they’re alive. I want to be very clear on that point. They must be alive. Your former associate didn’t understand that distinction, which is why he was terminated.”

“Fifty for the man, a hundred if I get them both.”

She angled her head, then used a finger to nudge a large manila envelope over the desk. “There’s a picture of him in here, and two thousand for expenses. I will not give you more than two thousand,” she said, “until I have some results. There’s an apartment building on West Eighteenth, between Ninth and Tenth. The address is also in the envelope, along with keys. The building is being renovated. Renovations will be put on hold as of today. When you have Mr. Sullivan, and hopefully Miss Toliver, you’re to take them there. Use the basement facilities. Employ whatever means necessary to restrain them, then contact me at the number I’ve already given you. Is that all very clear?”

“I got it.”

“You get me the man and the woman, and you’ll get the money you’ve asked for. After that, I don’t want to ever see or hear from you again.”

He took the envelope. “Figure you want to know. Taps are off the Marsh woman’s phone.”

Anita pursed her lips. “Doesn’t matter,” she decided. “She doesn’t interest me any longer.”

“Her old man got real talky when I went in his place and asked about those statues. Sounded like he’d like to get his hands on them.”

“Yes, I’m sure he would. I assume he told you nothing particularly helpful.”

“Said something about how he’d heard maybe one was in Greece. Athens. But said it was just a rumor, and there were others.”

“Athens. Well, that was yesterday.”

“Tried getting information out of me, acting like he was just shooting the breeze, but he was digging.”

“I’m no longer concerned with that. Get me Malachi Sullivan. You can leave the way you came in.”

She figured he didn’t have a brain, Jasper decided as he walked out. Figured he didn’t have the smarts to find out what was what.

He’d find this Sullivan guy, all right, and the woman. But he’d be fucked if he’d turn them over for a lousy hundred grand. If they were the connection to those statues, they’d tell him about it. And when he had the Fates, Anita Gaye would pay, and pay deeply.

Then maybe he’d do her just the way he figured she’d done that asshole Dubrowsky. Right before he hopped a plane to Rio.

 

 

ANITA STAYED AT her desk, going through messages. To entertain herself she tore those pertaining to the police into small pieces. Investigations of homicides and burglaries weren’t her job, after all.

She intended to contact the insurance agent very shortly. She expected them to deliver a check for her claim promptly. If they needed to be reminded that she could easily take her hefty annual premiums elsewhere, she would be happy to do so.

The doorbell rang twice. She cursed her miserably inefficient and grossly overpaid staff before remembering she’d dismissed them for the remainder of the day.

Sighing over the annoyance of having to do everything herself, she went to the door. She wasn’t pleased to see the two detectives standing on her stoop, but after weighing the pros and cons of ignoring them, she opened the door.

“Detectives, you just caught me.”

Lew Gilbert nodded. “Ms. Gaye. May we come in?”

“This really isn’t a good time. I’ve just returned from an overseas trip. I’m very tired.”

“But you’re on your way out? You said we just caught you.”

“Just caught me before I lay down,” she said sweetly.

“We’ll make it quick, then.”

“Very well.” She stepped back to let them in. “I didn’t realize you were working with . . . I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Detective Robbins.”

“Of course. I didn’t realize you were working with Detective Robbins on the burglary, Detective Gilbert.”

“Sometimes cases overlap.”

“I imagine. Of course, I’m delighted to have two of New York’s finest looking into my problem. Please sit down. I’m afraid I sent the servants off, as I wanted the house to myself. But I’m sure I could manage coffee if you’d like.”

“Thanks just the same.” Lew sat down, started the rhythm. “You said you’d just gotten back from a trip? Something you planned before the break-in.”

“Something that came up unexpectedly.”

“Overseas?”

“Yes.” She crossed her legs smoothly. “Athens.”

“Must be something. All those old temples. What’s that drink? Ouzo. Had some once at a wedding. Some kick.”

“So I’m told. I’m afraid this trip was business, and I didn’t have time for temples and ouzo.”

“Tough on you, having to take off like that right after the burglary,” Bob put in. “You usually do the business travel?”

“Depending.” She didn’t care for his tone. Not one bit. When this was over, she was going to have a few choice words on the subject with his superiors. “Excuse me, but if we could get to the point?”

“We’ve been trying to contact you. It hampers the investigation when the victim’s incommunicado.”

“As I said, it was necessary and unexpected. In any case, I gave Detective Gilbert all the information I had. I assumed you and the insurance company would handle the rest of it.”

“You filed your claim.”

“I left the paperwork with my assistant before I left. She assured me it was messengered to my agent. Do you have any leads on my property, or on who broke into my building?”

“The investigation’s ongoing. Ms. Gaye, do you know anything about the Three Fates?”

For a moment all she could do was stare. “Of course. They’re a legend in my line of work and my field of interest. Why?”

“A tip that maybe that’s what the thieves were after. But you didn’t list any silver statue or statues on your claim form.”

“A tip? From whom?”

“Anonymous, but we intend to follow up any and all leads in this case. I didn’t see anything that matches the description of any of these statues on your inventory list.”

“You wouldn’t, as I don’t have one. If I did, Detective, you can be sure I would have had it locked in a vault. The Fates are extremely valuable. Unfortunately, one was certainly lost with its owner on the
Lusitania.
As for the other two . . . No one can substantiate their existence.”

“So you don’t have one of these statues?”

The anger, the insult of being questioned edged into her voice. “I believe I’ve already answered that question. If I did own one of the Fates, you can be sure I’d announce it loud and clear. The publicity would be very beneficial to Morningside.”

“Well, anonymous tips usually turn out to be dead ends.” Lew took the apologetic route. “Just as well. Something like that wouldn’t go through the usual channels and fences. Since you weren’t available, we got photographs and descriptions of the stolen property from the insurance company. We’ve been checking all those usual avenues. Jack Burdett’s cooperated regarding the security. But I’m going to be honest, Ms. Gaye, we’re coming up empty so far.”

“It’s very upsetting. I’m trying to be grateful we were fully insured. Though, of course, I hope to have the property restored. But it’s very upsetting to know that Morningside was vulnerable. You’ll have to excuse me.” She got to her feet. “I’m really very tired.”

“We’ll keep you updated.” Bob rose. “Oh, on the other matter? That homicide in the warehouse you used to own.”

Not just a few choice words, Anita decided. She would see to it this man was fired. “Really, Detective, I think we’ve established I know nothing about it.”

“Just wanted you to know that we’ve ID’d a suspect. A man the victim was purported to be working with most recently.” Pulled a photo out of his inside pocket. “You recognize this man?”

Anita stared at the photograph of Jasper and wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or scream. “No, I don’t.”

“Didn’t think you would, but we’ve got to follow up the angles. Thanks for your time, Ms. Gaye.”

As they walked back to their car, the cops exchanged one brief look. “She’s dirty,” Lew said.

“Oh yeah. Up to her swanlike neck.”

The minute the car pulled away from the curb, Cleo pulled out her phone. “She’s primed,” she said. “Make the call.” Then she tucked the phone away and turned to Gideon in the driver’s seat. “Let’s just hang a few minutes. I bet we’ll be able to hear her scream all the way out here.”

“We could do that.” He passed her back the oversweet soft drink she’d brought for them to share during the stakeout. “And after, I think we could take a little detour to Tia’s. No one’s there at the moment.”

“Oh.” Cleo tucked her tongue in her cheek. “What did you have in mind?”

“Tearing your clothes off, tossing you down on the first handy flat surface and having at you.”