“Why would he want both of them there?” Zeke said. “Sounds like a ticklish situation to me.”
“Oh, he’s showing off. Now that we know he’s the unattractive Jock McLeod from Long Island, who didn’t go to Harvard or a top-notch English boarding school, it’s easy to understand why he needs all the signs of sexual prowess he can get. He has to reinforce his pathetic self-image,” Coleman said.
“I feel sorry for Ellen and Rachel. Rachel Ransome supports him, pays to have his teeth fixed, pays for acting school, and he cheats her every chance he gets. Ellen Carswell finances him, does who knows what for him, and he cheats her with her friends and employees,” Zeke said.
“I wonder if Judy and Delia would find Simon attractive if they knew he wore diapers so Ellen can put on her nanny outfit and change him? Wait—I have an idea. You know that guy who does caricatures, the Al Hirschfeld wannabe? Let’s get him to make cartoons of Simon and Ellen as a baby and nanny for the magazine. Wouldn’t that be a hoot? We won’t explain that we’re making fun of their sex life. People will think it’s the obvious—he’s a mama’s boy, and she takes care of him.”
“Simon’s sex life could take up an entire issue. Now that we know that he and Heyward are lovers, are you going to use it in the Print Museum story?” Zeke asked.
Coleman shook her head. “I can’t see why it would be relevant, or even news. Debbi says Bain’s sexual preference is widely known, thanks to Simon’s big mouth. Apparently ArtSmart—yours truly—was the last to know. I didn’t understand until she explained that all that publicity Debbi arranged at Christmas was a cover-up for Bain’s being gay—he prefers privacy, but didn’t know Simon would brag about their relationship. I’m not usually that dense, but I had a lot on my mind.
“Okay, I think that’s everything. I’m due at another meeting in a few minutes. Is there anything else we need to talk about before the ball tonight? No? Okay, see you later.” Coleman was longing to bring Rob up to date on Artful Online, and to let him know that there was no longer any doubt about who placed the bug. So much that had happened remained inexplicable, it was good to have proof of a solid fact.
Simon, exhausted after a night of wrangling with Ellen, dragged himself back to his suite at the Carlyle. She had, as he’d expected, shut down the print project. Worse, she’d ordered Simon to come to Chicago to help with the move to Los Angeles. Well, Ellen could go to hell. He’d tell her so, too, if she weren’t holding all the money. He was even more financially dependent on her than he’d been on Rachel. He wished he hadn’t let it happen, but for the moment, he couldn’t figure out what to do about it.
At least he’d escape from her tonight. He’d told Ellen he was spending the evening with Bain and a print dealer. He had to make sure Heyward would confirm his story. He lay down on the bed and picked up the phone. When Horace put him through to Bain, he said, “Heyward, love, Ellen is after me to do some truly tedious things tonight.”
“Like fucking her?” Bain said. His voice had an unfamiliar edge.
“Of course not. Why do you say that? I’ve told you there’s nothing sexual between Ellen and me. Why do you keep bringing it up?” Heyward was a jealous and possessive bore, but Simon had to keep him sweet.
“Everyone says you’re lovers, and that you both admit it.”
“Heyward, you know Ellen gave me an alibi for the night La Grange was killed. She told the police we spent the night together—but as you very well know, I spent that night with you. You didn’t want people to know that, remember?” Simon was constantly having to say he was someplace he hadn’t been. Pretty soon he wasn’t going to remember where he was supposed to have been, or when he was supposed to have been there, never mind with whom.
“Oh, is that the night they meant? I thought—well, never mind Ellen. What about the two women you’ve been visiting in their hotel rooms? Weren’t you with them either?”
Heyward was far too well-informed about Simon’s activities. Where was he getting his information? “Business, all business,” Simon said. “Both of the women are Ellen’s employees and they’ve helped get prints for you. You know a great deal about my tedious little life. Have you had someone following me?” His tone was deliberately arch to mask his fury.
“No, the Greene crowd has,” Heyward said.
“They’ve had someone following me? Whatever for?” What could they have learned? They’d have discovered Kestrel and Owl, but he wasn’t hiding them from anyone but Ellen and Heyward. Ellen still didn’t know; if she did, she’d sure as hell have brought it up last night. Fortunately, Heyward would believe anything Simon told him. The fool was besotted.
Simon was proud of his seduction of Heyward. Until he met Simon, the poor idiot hadn’t admitted, even to himself, that he was attracted to men. Heyward was in love with Simon, which was handy for getting money, but Bain wanted to be with Simon all the time, and that was a drag. He acted like a teenaged girl. On the other hand Ellen, insanely jealous of other women, was tolerant of his relationship with Heyward. She saw it as a “boys will be boys” kind of thing and chalked it up as a leftover from the English boarding school Simon had told her he’d attended.
“They’re sure you’re up to something, and they’re trying to find out what. Are you guilty of anything?” Heyward said.
Simon sighed. “Good Lord, no. Well, let them follow me. All they’re doing is wasting their money. But back to why I called: I told Ellen I’d be with you tonight. Will you back me up?”
“Do you mean we can spend the evening together? Shall we go out to dinner? Where would you like to go?”
Heyward was so thrilled at the prospect of an evening with Simon, it was a shame to have to deflate him. “No, no, you misunderstand me. I have another commitment. I’m investigating the possibility of some outstanding prints for you.”
“Why would Ellen object to that? I don’t see why you don’t tell her the truth.”
Simon took a deep breath and exhaled. “She does object. I’m a part-owner of her business, and she wants me to work on projects that are important to her. She says there’s not enough money in your project to justify the time.” At least that part was true.
“Shall I speak to her? There could be much more money in it, if you can find the right prints.”
“No, no, leave it for the moment. Let’s have dinner tomorrow night. It’s been too long since we’ve had private time together. We can talk about it then.” Making a date with Heyward would keep him quiet for a few hours, and Simon wanted nothing to ruin the evening ahead.
“Debbi, it’s Coleman. I need four more tickets for the ball. Dinah and Jonathan and Bethany and Zeke want to go. Possible?”
“Sure. Anything else?”
“Yes, would you offer a ticket to Bain? Tell him Simon will be there with two guests. And offer a ticket to Ellen, too. Tell her the same story.”
“Blood might flow,” Debbi warned.
“I kind of hope it does. I’d like to see this thing blown wide open, and have it over.”
Rob was relieved to get Coleman’s message about the Artful Californian Online, but furious with Ms. Isaacs. What the devil was the woman playing at? Zeke must know why she’d lie about him. He dialed Zeke’s number. “Zeke, why would Tammy Isaacs try to incriminate you?”
“Oh God, is she still bad-mouthing me? Rob, this is so embarrassing—”
“Never mind that. What’s going on?”
“A while back she decided I was a good matrimonial prospect, and pursued me like a man-eating tiger,” Zeke said. “I took her out a couple of times just to be polite, and I told her we could be friends, but there was nothing else going. She wouldn’t listen, so I leveled with her: I told her I was in love with Coleman. She went crazy. She’s hardly spoken to me since.”
“Aha. A woman scorned. I suppose that’s why she hates Coleman?”
“Part of it, maybe. But I think she’s always detested Coleman. She’s jealous of Coleman’s talent, her success, her attractiveness
,” Zeke said.
“Okay. Got it. Thanks.”
“Wait. What did she do? What did she say I did?”
“Another time. See you later.” Rob hung up and dialed Isaacs’s number. “Ms. Isaacs? We have proof that the listening device at ArtSmart belongs to your erstwhile employer and has nothing to do with Zeke Tolmach. Don’t call me again, or anyone connected with Coleman Greene, or ArtSmart. If you do, I’ll come after you for harassment. And I’ve told that idiot receptionist at Art-Smart if she talks to you again, she’s out of a job. Have a good life—ideally in some other country!” Rob slammed down the phone. He rarely allowed himself the luxury of that kind of explosion, but if anyone deserved it, that woman did.
Coleman was going to the ball as Bo Peep, with Dolly as her sheep. Rob, annoyed because Coleman wouldn’t stay away from the ball, had reluctantly agreed to attend as a New York City cop, wearing his old uniform.
Bethany was Cleopatra, in a slinky cloth of gold outfit she’d made herself, with a fake asp around her neck. Zeke was Mark Antony in a toga and wreath. Dinah was a swan, in a slim white evening dress with a swansdown jacket and a swan half-mask. Jonathan was wearing a matching black swan’s mask, with black tie. They hired two cars with drivers—parking would be a nightmare—and planned to arrive about ten.
Simon picked up the nestlings at their hotels in a stretch limo. They were wearing the costumes and masks he’d ordered, and they looked exactly as he’d fantasized. He’d asked that neither of them speak in the car, because he didn’t want them to reveal their identities to each other until later. They knew each other, but they were unrecognizable in their costumes, and he was sure they didn’t know that he was involved with both of them.
Kestrel didn’t mind being quiet, and she loved being told what to do. But Owl was sulking. That woman loved to talk. Well, she could shut up or ship out. He had to put up with Ellen, but not Owl. When she’d argued with him, he’d told her if she said one more word, he’d shove her out of the car, and she could find her own way to wherever she wanted to go. Ellen had exhausted his patience, and although he was looking forward to his late night activities with the nestlings, until then they’d better mind their p’s and q’s. He’d cancel the entire evening before he took any more backtalk from a woman.
“My goodness, what a mob,” Dinah said.
“Debbi says they sold over a thousand tickets. The Sorcerer’s Club can handle the crowd because they have three ballrooms. One of them is set up with tables for supper, and another is reserved for under-thirties with less expensive tickets. But this one, where Peter Duchin is playing, is where the people who interest us will turn up.” Coleman was already taking notes.
The vast room was alive with floating red, yellow, blue, and green balloons, and the ceiling was draped in sails and banners in the same colors. The orchestra played at one end, and the dance floor swirled with vividly dressed figures. Bars, manned by bartenders in clown costumes in the colors of the decorations, were set up at intervals along the walls.
“How will we find anyone in this crowd?” Zeke asked.
“If Simon comes as a raven, he’ll be conspicuous,” Coleman said. “I can’t imagine anyone else wanting to wear an ugly black costume. Everyone’s wearing bright colors.”
“I see a raven,” Jonathan said, who was looking towards the ballroom entrance.
They peered through the crowd at the tall figure dressed as a black bird, with a big black beak and huge feathered wings. He was accompanied by two smaller figures, costumed as a white owl and a hawk.
“We should split up and take turns following them,” Coleman said. “I can’t get too near them. If Simon sees me up close he’ll know me. I should have worn a mask.” She glanced down at her blue and white flounces, at the beribboned basket holding Dolly, and at her shepherdess’s crook. She’d tried to think of something less girly, but it was hard to design a great costume for a person of her height. In the end, she’d run out of time and had remade an old evening dress. Her huge white hat with trailing blue ribbons over a wig with long dark curls disguised her, at least from a distance.
“It would help if you told us what you thought was going to happen,” Dinah said.
Coleman shrugged. “I don’t know. We just have to watch the cast of characters, and see what they do. Look for Heyward Bain. I expect he’ll wear a costume that plays to his size, since he can’t disguise it.” Coleman said.
“Like what?” Zeke asked.
“A toy soldier? Tom Thumb? He might get angry when he sees Simon with his lady friends, but he’s too controlled to make a scene. But I think Ellen will crack. By now she’s heard the tapes.” Coleman was scanning the room, trying to spot celebrities for the magazine, keeping an eye on Simon and his companions, hoping to see Bain and Ellen.
“Will Ellen wear a nanny costume?” Dinah said.
“What do you think, Rob? You haven’t said a word.”
“I don’t like any of this, and I don’t think you should be here. I think you’re in danger. We should leave,” Rob said.
“Well, stay close to me. That’s not so awful, is it?”
“Why don’t you and Dinah and Bethany go home? I’ll stay here with Jonathan and Zeke to see if anything happens,” Rob said.
“Not a chance,” Coleman said.
“Coleman, look at Debbi,” Dinah said.
Debbi was magnificent as a dragon. She wore a strapless green bodysuit covered in glitter, and spangled tights. She held a green sequined tail draped over one arm, and her half-mask had giraffe-like eyelashes.
“Did the fish bite?” Coleman said, after she’d complimented Debbi’s costume.
“Hook, line, and sinker. I took some papers to Heyward’s, and Ellen stopped by while I was there. I told them that Simon was going to the ball, and that he’d taken three tickets. I thought Heyward was going to pass out. As for Ellen—God, I’d sooner face a gorgon. They each took a ticket. I’m sure they’ll come, and I plan to avoid them.” Debbi pretended to shiver, and shed a few sequins.
“Any idea what either of them will be wearing?” Coleman said.
“Not a clue,” Debbi said.
“Let’s spread out, and look for Bain and Ellen,” Coleman said. “Jonathan, why don’t you and Dinah head directly opposite where we are? Over there, by that bar.”
Jonathan, with Dinah on his arm, was barely out of sight when Bethany called out, “Coleman, look! There’s a doctor! It’s my doctor! Look at the beard!” She was standing on tiptoe, jumping up and down, pointing across the room.
“Zeke, you and Bethany try to get near that doctor. See if you can find out who he is, or at least how much of that beard and hair is a disguise,” Coleman said. Zeke and Bethany pushed their way through the throngs of costumed figures towards the tall figure in white standing near the entrance.
“Damn it, I can’t see a thing. I hate being short,” Coleman said to Debbi. Setting Dolly’s basket on the bar, Coleman used her crook to help her climb up on it. From her new vantage point she had a great view of the ballroom. She ignored the staring bartenders, who were probably going to tell her to get down.
A disturbance at the door distracted them. The doctor had forced his way through the crowd towards the raven. When he closed in on the big black figure, he pulled a club from the bag he carried and without warning smashed it into the feathered head.
The raven’s mask disintegrated, leaving Simon’s blond head and startled face visible. The doctor struck Simon repeatedly. As if paralyzed, none of the shocked bystanders attempted to stop him. Blood covered Simon’s face and his hair and spattered all over costumed guests standing nearby. Simon staggered and collapsed to the floor, vanishing from view. The crowd struggled to get as far from the doctor and his blood-covered weapon as possible. Men shouted and women screamed for the police, for security, for help.
The doctor apparently noticed the owl and the hawk for the first time, both covered in blood, both staring down at the floor where Simon must lie
. The doctor struck out at them, and when they collapsed, he turned and tried to force his way through the crowd towards the entrance.
Rob looked up at Coleman. “Get down. I’ll take you home.”
“No way,” she shouted, struggling to make herself heard above the din. “I’m okay. The danger’s near the door. Catch the doctor if you can.”
“Go on,” Debbi yelled. “I’ll stay with Coleman.”
Rob hesitated, then, holding his courtesy police badge above his head, he bellowed, “Security. Coming through.” The crowd parted, and he disappeared into the swarm of people struggling to get away from the assailant and his victims.
The doctor was making little headway. New arrivals, unaware of the attacks, pushed their way into the room. The doctor was trying to move against the tide. Those who’d seen the white-clad figure’s vicious attack struggled to reach an exit. A fire alarm clamored, and sirens shrieked in the street below.
Coleman began to fear a crowd catastrophe where people were crushed, even killed, trying to escape. But so far, costumed guests were exiting freely through three of the four formal exits, and the crowd was shrinking. Only the main entrance remained blocked with people. No one had tried the two emergency exits.
Heyward Bain appeared, dressed as Lautrec’s Midget—top hat, white tie, and tails. He climbed up on the bar beside Coleman. She nodded, but didn’t turn her head to look at him. She was concentrating on the group clustered around the area where Simon had fallen.
“Who are the people in the bird costumes with Simon?” Bain asked.
“Judy Nelson and Delia Swain. We think they’re both involved with Ellen and Simon in the schemes to cheat you,” Coleman said, still staring at the spot where Simon and his companions had fallen to the floor. The noise level had dropped as the crowd diminished. It was no longer necessary to shout.
“Did you see it from the beginning? What happened”
“The doctor—there, near the entrance door, in the whites, with the black beard—came up and started hitting Simon with a club. The first blow got him in the mouth. It was horrible—teeth and blood flew everywhere—and the doctor kept hitting him till Simon fell down. Then the doctor struck out at the women—the birds—and they fell, too, but I don’t think they were hurt. They probably realized it was the only way to escape the blows.”
Restrike Page 28