“I feel like a bug about to meet a windshield,” Noah said as the elevator doors slid open.
Inside the elevator was all quiet, unassuming elegance with mirrored panels interspersed with elegant wood and polished brass handrails along the sides. The carpet was a plush red with an intricate gold pattern and so deep even Noah couldn’t help admiring it. Nothing shouted money like a Central Park West address with a view of Central Park.
Noah rang the doorbell of the penthouse apartment and a middle aged woman with iron-gray hair wrapped around her head opened the door. She wore a calf-length black dress with a lace apron as though she were a refugee from a 1930s movie. At least she didn’t curtsey. She didn’t smile either. She glanced up and down at Noah and Ian as though they were unwashed immigrants.
“Mr. Callahan and Mr. Richardson,” she said, blue eyes darting back and forth between them.
Noah nodded. “We’re here to see Mrs. Bennington.”
“This way please,” the woman said as she stepped aside. “Madam is expecting you.”
They walked into the apartment and Noah couldn’t help but admire the richness of the marble foyer with a table in the center almost hidden beneath a huge vase of flowers. The marble floor was white with black and gray threads, the paneling dark brown, and the flowers all shades of yellow. A long hall was visible behind the flowers.
The woman led them down the hall and turned into a living room decorated in shades of creams and browns. The brown paneled walls rose to ten foot ceilings which were also paneled. In the center of the ceiling an intricate mural had been painted.
Ian glanced up and Noah tried not to follow suit. Even though he wasn’t up on his art, he knew Art Nouveau when he saw it. E.J. was a good teacher. He even recognized some of the paintings hanging on the walls, even though he couldn’t identify the artists.
A woman uncoiled from a corner of the white upholstered sofa and stood up, her eyebrows slightly raised in curiosity. She closed a magazine and set it on the white table next to her. White hair curled fashionably about her slender face and diamonds sparkled in her ears, on her fingers, and around her wrist. She was slender and immaculately dressed in a dark gray dress with an almost girlish red ribbon and bow at her waist that Noah had to admit suited her look. His notes said she was seventy-nine, but she didn’t look a day over fifty with her flawless makeup, smooth skin and dark brown eyes. She looked like a gracefully aging model, impeccably groomed right down the clear polish on her fingernails. This rarified world made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t help comparing this condo with Lulu’s comfortable, warm brownstone. This place was a museum.
“Mr. Callahan,” she said in a soft, cultured voice.
Noah’s throat went dry. “Mrs. Bennington,” he croaked.
She gave a slight laugh. “Please, call me Marcia.” She looked inquiringly at Ian.
“Ian Richardson,” he said in a clipped, cultured tone that matched hers.
Noah felt out-classed. She held out a hand to Ian and he took it delicately and bent over the tips of her fingers as though she were the Queen of England.
“Oh my,” Marcia Bennington said to Ian, with a faint crimson blush rising across her cheeks. “You have lovely manners. Your mother taught you well. It’s been a long time since I met a gentleman of your stature.” She indicated two over-stuffed white chairs and Noah perched himself uncomfortably in one.
“Tea, Helen,” Mrs. Bennington said.
The woman, Helen, withdrew silently without uttering one word. Noah remembered the doorman’s comments and waited for the real Marcia Bennington to come out and play. Despite her refined manners she seemed cold and brittle with blue eyes steadily assessing him and finding him wanting.
“What is the purpose of your visit?” she finally asked after a long silence.
“There have been a few incidents involving Ms. Bennington and she was concerned about you.”
“If she were so concerned she could have come to see me herself.” Her voice was cold and restrained as though she wanted to say something nasty.
“She wanted to, Mrs. Bennington,” Ian said smoothly, “but her security detail is curtailing her outings except for those events she must attend.”
Besides, who wants to come see you, you icy bitch, Noah thought. Ian gave him a look that told Noah he knew exactly what Noah was thinking.
“Really, I can’t see anyone curtailing Lulu,” Marcia said in a brittle tone.
“Mr. Callahan has done an exceptional job,” Ian replied, laughter in his eyes. His mouth quirked as he held his amusement in.
Marcia gave Noah a cool look. “What exactly has been happening?”
“Unfortunately, for security reasons, I can’t give you any details. We do know she’s being stalked and we are concerned that stalker has targeted some other family members.”
“How would I know?” she asked.
“Have you received any strange phone calls, had the sense of being watched or followed, maybe even found gifts you don’t remember purchasing.”
“If there were, would I get you for a bodyguard,” she said archly.
Go ahead, answer this one, Ian, Noah thought, enjoying the play of emotion passing over Ian’s face.
“I do apologize, but I’m not available.”
“More’s the pity,” Marcia said.
She didn’t even bother asking Noah. He could tell she would never consider him appropriate guard material for her.
The housekeeper returned with a tray set with three cups, a tea pot, sugar and creamers. She poured tea into a cup and handed one to each of them. Then she turned again and silently left the room. The china was delicate and expensive. Noah took one look at the tea cup and knew he would never get his finger through the handle. Finally he set the cup and saucer on the side table next to him.
Marcia looked a bit like a greyhound. Sleek, nervous, and over-bred or maybe that was inbred, Noah thought. He glanced at Ian who simply smiled at Marcia Bennington. Ian was completely at ease as though he took tea and crumpets with strange women every day of the week.
“There’s been nothing unusual in my life,” Marcia said after a delicate sip of tea. “I wake up in the morning, have breakfast in bed, prepare for my day and attend my functions. Sometimes I have dinner at home with a friend, or go out with a friend. I have several charity events every week. Then I shop.”
“You have exquisite taste,” Ian said warmly.
Marcia gave him a slight smile that barely moved her lips. “Thank you.”
”We have to look at all possible angles. Are there any new men in your life?”
She gave him a girlish tilt of her head. “No,” she said, “but for the right man, I’d make a spot on my social calendar.” She took a sip of her tea and sat gracefully waiting for them to talk. “Had I been in charge of Lulu and Wilder’s upbringing they wouldn’t have to worry about stalkers. In my day, it was unheard of for menials to stalk their betters. This has everything to do with her being in the public eye. I told her not to do a talk show. Modeling was one thing, but being on television—how unrefined.”
Noah almost laughed. Lulu was real. She wasn’t a pampered pet. She wasn’t sleek. Lulu was open and warm-hearted and filled with life. Marcia was a pale imitation of life. Yes, Marcia was beautiful, but she looked more like a hand-crafted doll with porcelain and glass eyes. Noah would take Lulu any day of the week.
She cast another flirting glance at Ian. “I just can’t see someone stalking her, she hasn’t maintained herself.” Marcia took a sip of tea holding her cup daintily in one hand.
Noah almost flinched. Ian’s face went blank and Noah decided it would be bad to beat the old lady over the head. In his opinion, Lulu looked terrific. What gave Marcia the right to be so critical?
Marcia sighed. “If only her mother were still alive. Gabrielle was a wonderful girl, impeccable breeding, and so beautiful, even though she was French. Lulu would never have turned out the way she is. I wish I had gotten custody of the c
hildren.”
“I thought your son was trying to get custody of them,” Ian said.
She smiled a little tightly. “Yes, of course, but he would have needed a woman’s touch. Julia was not a good guardian for them. She sent them to public schools, public universities. Julia denied Lulu a debutante ball, forgoing her chance to take her proper place in society.” Marcia shuddered delicately.
“To some people those things are not important,” Ian said in a polite tone.
Marcia lifted her chin high. “We’re Benningtons; those things are of the utmost importance.”
Along with the money, Noah thought uncharitably. He watched Ian. Despite Ian’s composure, Noah could tell he didn’t like this woman. He remained polite, but his last comment was almost insulting.
“What do you remember about the parents’ murder?”
She stiffened slightly. “Such a tragedy. I’m sure their murder has nothing to do with what is going on now. That was twenty-two years ago.”
“Miss Bennington’s life is at stake, we must be thorough,” Noah replied.
She flicked a glance at him as though deciding whether she wanted to talk to him or not. “I understand and I appreciate your concern. I’m sure Lulu wouldn’t be in this position if she weren’t so…visible.”
No matter how she tried to hide it, this woman had rage. From her body language, he had the feeling she was concealing something. What did she have to hide? He pushed the thought to the back of his head.
“Thank you for your time, you’ve been incredibly helpful,” Ian said.
Marcia dimpled slightly. “If I can do anything for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Your servant, madam,” Ian said formally as he rose to his feet.
Blah, blah, blah, Noah thought as he stood. He needed to get out of this claustrophobic place.
Marcia reached for a small button almost hidden on the leg of the side table. Helen appeared immediately. “My guests are leaving,” Marcia said.
Helen nodded and stood aside.
“Thank you for the visit,” Marcia said graciously.
Noah just wanted to get out. He headed toward the door as Ian bent over Marcia’s extended hand, his lips brushing her knuckles.
In the elevator, Noah leaned against the railing while Ian let out a long, long torturous breath.
“Women like her are why I don’t go back to England,” Ian said.
Noah just felt a raw sense of distaste. “At least we still have our balls. I want to keep her on the suspect list just so I can find something on her. She hates Lulu and Wilder.”
“I got that impression, too,” Ian said. “What did we really find out about her?”
“She’s an evil bitch,” Noah said, “and she’s hiding something. She managed to hide her animosity for the most part, but women like her thrive on secrets. I want to know what her secrets are.”
“I don’t,” Ian replied.
Noah was surprised. “You like knowing secrets, being in people’s business.”
“But knowing secrets means I have to be close to them. I’d rather be tortured by the Iranian secret police.”
Noah nodded. “I don’t why she took such a real shine to you.” In fact, Marcia was practically falling all over herself in her effort to claim Ian’s attention.
“The same way a lion likes a gazelle,” Ian said with a shudder.
Noah laughed. “Welcome to the jungle.”
Chapter Fifteen
Wilder raised his arms over his head and stretched to ease the cramp in across his ribs. He twisted his head back and forth when his phone rang. He glanced at the display and saw that it was Marcia—again. He’d been dodging her phone calls all day, letting Sylvia handle her. He didn’t want to deal with her. He considered letting the call go unanswered, but decided to answer it. Marcia never gave up.
“Hello, Wilder Bennington here,” he said slowly.
“Thank you for taking the time to answer one of my numerous phone calls, Grandson.” Though her voice sounded sweet, Wilder could feel the acid dripping from each word.
“Hello, Marcia.”
“I would appreciate if next time we have a family crisis, you do not send the help.”
“I thought you would enjoy a visit from an authentic English nobleman,” Wilder said, thinking how best to get rid of her.
“Really,” she said, “I must admit he had impeccable manners. I’m still quite disappointed that you didn’t visit me yourself.”
“The security firm has curtailed my social outings and I must bow to their expertise,” Wilder said without a sliver of guilt.
“I do understand, but isn’t the purpose of a body guard to keep you safe?”
Touché, he thought. “I apologize for you feeling slighted. That was not my intention.”
“Should I be concerned for my own safety and if so, shouldn’t I have a body guard?”
No one should be subjected to the torture of Marcia. He would have to give them hazard pay. “If you would feel more secure, I can arrange for someone.”
“Don’t go to any trouble for me,” she said.
“No trouble at all. You know how I feel about you,” he said resisting the urge to disconnect.
“I’m touched, Wilder,” Marcia said sweetly.
The door opened and E.J. walked in. Rescue me, Wilder thought. She glanced at him curiously.
“Well, Marcia,” he said, “thank you…”
A knowing look crossed E.J.’s face as she walked over and said in a loud voice, “Boss, we have a problem in Studio 2 and we need you.” She leaned toward the phone. “NOW!”
“Marcia, I have to go.”
“I heard, dear. Go take care of what you need to take care of,” Marcia said.
“I’ll make arrangements for a security detail for you.”
“Thank you, Wilder, I feel so protected,” Marcia said sweetly and disconnected.
Wilder closed his phone and slid it back in his pocket.
“Was that her?” E.J. asked. She leaned against the corner of his desk looking utterly delectable in her dark brown silk pantsuit and gold blouse. Her hair was upswept to reveal her ears and long neck. Delicate earrings hung from her earlobes.
Wilder sat back and studied her. Noah and his people were in his life in a very intimate manner and he felt uncomfortable having them underfoot all the time.
“Enid Juniper,” Wilder said, back to the name game to take his thoughts away from Marcia.
E.J. shuddered. “No. Make that God no.”
“Elsbeth Juanita.”
“Not even close. You’re getting desperate.”
“Just keeping you off your stride.” He pushed back from his desk and stood. He liked how tiny and petite she was. She looked up at him, her eyes teasing.
“Want to go to dinner?” she asked.
Startled, he drew back. “Dinner?”
“Not a date. I’m your security detail for the evening.” She stood and rotated her shoulders stiffly.
He felt a touch of disappointment. “Here I was hoping for a date.”
“We can call your girlfriend.”
For a second he had no idea who she was talking about.
“Candace,” E.J. prompted. “You are dating her, aren’t you?”
“I was.” Except that when he was with E.J. no other woman entered his thoughts. Candace was nice, but Wilder didn’t see a future with her even though she’d hinted enough times. “Let’s get dinner.”
He opened the closet and took out his coat.
“How about Petruchio’s? They have great pizza.”
“Pizza?”
“You know, round bread sliced in wedges with tomato sauce, cheese, pepperoni and sausage…” her eyes closed as though she could already taste it.
Wilder couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out for pizza. “Sounds good.”
“Glad you agree. It’s time you took a little walk on the wild side,” she said with a sly grin.
“Do
I want to know?”
“Not yet.”
Petruchio’s was a hole in the wall place halfway down an alley in Hell’s Kitchen a block away from the Sony Music Studios. Wilder would never have even known the place existed. Yet as he stood in the alley, he breathed in the most amazing mixture of smells that set his mouth to watering.
He opened the door for E.J. and she stopped for a moment to take a deep breath. “Do you smell that?” she asked.
The place smelled heavenly.
“Pizza is the great equalizer.” He said as he escorted her inside.
Warmth enveloped him and felt good after the chill of the January night. The restaurant was larger inside than he expected. A bar stretched along the side wall and the other side was crowded with tables and booths lining the wall. It might have been a hole in the wall restaurant with its dingy gray walls, red vinyl covered booths along the wall and small scarred tables and chairs, but Wilder recognized several recording artists and music producers. If they ate here, the food had to be good.
Peanut shells littered the plank floorboards, crackling when Wilder stepped on them.
“Red,” a man’s voice called out.
“Sal,” E.J. said. Sal was a large, muscular man who looked like he worked out for hours every day. Black hair, threaded with gray, was cropped to military closeness. He wore black jeans and polo shirt with a white apron wrapped around him.
Sal lifted her off her feet and smacked her on the cheek. She looked like a doll in his beefy arms. “Look at you, all grown up. You look good, Red.”
Wilder felt a twinge of jealousy even though the man was old enough to be her father.
“Put me down, Sal,” E.J. ordered sternly.
Sal set E.J. down on her feet and gave Wilder a once over. “Mr. Wilder Bennington,” Sal said in a hearty voice, “it’s about time you found my place. You been missing da best pizza in New York.” He had a broad Brooklyn accent and he chuckled heartily. “And you Red, you really did get out of da business if you’re hanging wit’ dis guy.” He jerked his thumb at Wilder.
E.J. grinned. “That is a compliment indeed.”
“Come on,” he said and led them to a corner booth away from the door and the chill that seemed to permanently occupy that spot. E.J. slid into the booth with Wilder across from her. Sal set a bucket of peanuts in the center of the table. E.J. broke open a peanut, put the nut in her mouth and tossed the shell onto the floor.
Protecting Lulu (Global Protection Agency) Page 20