“I’ve got the SEC letter,” Collin confirmed as the door closed behind them, and they headed for Gage Lattimer’s penthouse. Collin’s friend, Gage, had also been named in the SEC’s letter as being part of the investigation.
“Envelope, too?” asked Reed. He didn’t want a shred of evidence lying around for Elizabeth to stumble across.
“Everything,” said Collin, stopping in front of the wide oak door. “And I closed your Web browser.”
“Thanks.” Reed nodded, giving a sharp knock.
They waited in silence, listening to a clang and clash from inside. The door was finally opened. But it wasn’t Gage standing in front of them. It was a tall, attractive brunette with a guarded, almost guilty look in her green eyes.
“Is Gage available?” asked Reed, hoping he wasn’t disturbing something. Although the woman was fully dressed.
“I’m terribly sorry-” The woman cleared her throat. “Mr. Lattimer isn’t in at the moment.”
Was that a British accent?
“And you are?” asked Collin.
“Jane Elliott. Mr. Lattimer’s new housekeeper.”
Reed’s gaze caught on the untidy penthouse over her shoulder.
She pulled the door against her back, blocking his view. “May I tell him who called?”
“Reed Wellington.”
Collin handed the woman a business card. “Can you ask him to call me as soon as possible?”
“Of course,” she replied with a nod, then slipped back into the suite and closed the door.
“I hope he’s not paying her much,” Reed mused as they turned for the elevator.
“I’d pay her pretty much anything she asked,” said Collin.
Reed couldn’t help but smile as he punched the call button for the elevator. Then he quickly brought his thoughts back to the problem at hand. “So what in the hell do you think is going on with this?” Reed asked as the doors slid open to an empty car.
“I think maybe you should have paid the blackmail.”
Reed drew back. As a wealthy man, he was often the target of both financial appeals and threats. But a particularly bizarre blackmail demand had arrived two weeks ago.
“Ten million dollars?” he asked Collin. “Are you out of your mind?”
“The two could be related.”
“The blackmail letter said, ‘the world will learn the dirty secret of how the Wellingtons make their money.’ It didn’t say anything about an SEC investigation.” Not that Reed would have paid up in any event. But he might have taken the letter a little more seriously if the threat had been that specific.
“Insider trading is a dirty little secret.”
“It’s also a ridiculous fabrication.”
When Reed first read the blackmail letter, he’d dismissed it as a hoax. There were plenty of lunatics out there. Then he’d wondered if some of their overseas suppliers might be engaged in unethical labor practices. But he’d checked them all out. He could find absolutely nothing to substantiate any “dirty little secret” of the Wellingtons’ wealth.
He had no dirty little secret. It was beyond preposterous to suggest he’d engaged in insider trading. And impossible to prove, since he hadn’t done it. It wasn’t even logical. The vast majority of his and his father’s and, for that matter, their ancestors’ wealth was derived from the performance of their companies. Reed did very little trading on the stock market.
And what little he did do was recreational, just to see if he could beat the odds. Where was the challenge in cheating? He didn’t need the money. And cheating wouldn’t be any fun. So why the hell would he engage in insider trading?
“They’ve got something,” said Collin as the elevator came to a rest on the second floor. “The SEC doesn’t start investigations on spec.”
“So, who do we call?” asked Reed.
As well as being a vice president, Collin was a damn fine lawyer. He inserted his key and opened the apartment door. “The SEC for starters.”
Reed glanced at his watch. Nine-fifteen. “You know anybody we can disturb?”
“Yeah.” Collin tossed his briefcase on the table of the more compact, one-bedroom apartment that was owned by Wellington International. “I know a guy.” He picked up a cordless phone. “You feel like pouring the scotch?”
“On it.”
Collin’s call was brief.
When he finished, he accepted a crystal tumbler of single malt and sat back in an armchair. “They’ll send us a full dossier in the morning, but it’s something to do with Ellias Technologies.”
Reed recognized the company name. “That was Gage’s deal. He thought they were going to go big, so we both bought in.” But he couldn’t believe Gage Lattimer, his friend and neighbor, would have recommended a stock based on insider information. But he went over the scenario, thinking out loud as he stepped through the deal.
“It did shoot up fast. Particularly when that navigations system-”
A lightbulb went on inside Reed’s head.
“What?” Collin prompted.
“Kendrick.”
“The senator?”
Reed nodded. “Damn it. How much you want to bet he was on the approval committee?”
The trepidation in Collin’s voice was obvious. “Not the one that awarded the navigations contract.”
“Yeah.” Reed took a swallow of his scotch. “That one.”
Collin cursed under his breath.
Reed echoed the sentiment. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but if Kendrick was on the approval committee, it would sure look like he had.
“I buy shares in Ellias,” Reed speculated out loud. “Kendrick-who the whole world knows is an avid supporter of my Envirocore.com-approves a lucrative contract for Ellias. Ellias stock soars. I make a few hundred thousand. And suddenly the SEC is involved.”
“You missed a step,” said Collin.
“The blackmailer,” Reed agreed. If the blackmailer was the one who alerted the SEC, then Reed hadn’t taken him nearly seriously enough.
The blackmailer obviously had information on Reed’s stock portfolio. He also knew Reed was the owner of Envirocore. And he knew that Kendrick was on the Senate navigation system contract approval committee. What’s more, he knew how to put it all together to hurt Reed.
This was no lightweight.
Collin gazed at the storm-tossed seascape on his far wall. “Nobody in his right mind is going to think you broke the law for a few hundred thousand.”
“Are you kidding? Everybody’s ready to knock old money off their pedestal.”
“Can you prove you’re innocent?”
Reed scoffed. “Prove that a phone call, a meeting or an e-mail didn’t take place? I don’t see how I can do that.”
“Did you call the police on the blackmail letter?”
“I filed it with the rest of the crank stuff.” Mistake. Obviously.
“You want to call them tonight?”
Reed nodded. “We might as well get this party started.”
Two
The black-tie hospital fund-raiser at the Bergere Grande Hotel was in full swing on Saturday night. Guests had been served a gourmet dinner in the Crystal Room, and now they were moving through the marble-pillared foyer to the East Ballroom for cocktails and dancing.
Elizabeth had spotted Collin approaching, so she’d quickly set a course for the ladies’ room. She knew she’d have to look the man in the eye at some point, but she was putting off the moment as long as possible. She didn’t want to think about how much the red negligee had revealed.
She emerged from checking her hair and freshening her lipstick and accepted a flute of champagne from a smartly dressed waiter. Then she concentrated on a series of silent auction items on her way to the main ballroom. She wanted to give Collin and Reed plenty of time to finish their conversation.
Hanna sidled up to her. “So, how’d it go last night?”
Elizabeth bought a little time by putting her head down over an auction item.
It was a ruby and diamond choker, and the top bid was ten thousand dollars. She added a thousand and signed her name.
“Nice,” said Hanna, nodding to the jewels that were secured in a glass case. “If you win, can I borrow it sometime?”
“Sure.”
Hanna latched on to Elizabeth’s arm and drew her away from the crowd. “So, did you do it?”
Elizabeth admitted as much with a nod.
“What happened?”
“I crashed and burned.”
Hanna’s sculpted brows knit together. “I don’t understand. Was he asleep or something?”
“I got dressed up in a red, slinky negligee.” Elizabeth omitted the part about the coin toss, not wanting Hanna to know she’d had second thoughts. “Then I surprised him in his office.”
“And?” Hanna prompted, cocking her expertly coiffed blond hair to one side.
“And Collin was there, too.”
Hanna’s fingertips went to her mouth to cover her grin.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” Elizabeth warned in a dire undertone. “I was mortified.”
“Were you…exposed?”
Elizabeth sniffed, attempting to regain her dignity. “There was no frontal nudity.”
“He saw your butt?” Hanna looked somewhat thrilled at the prospect.
“He did not see my butt. It was a negligee. It was sexy, but it covered everything that counts.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“I tried to vamp up my husband, and he left for a meeting with Collin.” Elizabeth’s gaze slid across the room to where the two men were talking. There were things more embarrassing than having Collin see her in her red negligee.
“Oh,” said Hanna, obviously understanding the broader point.
“Yes. Oh. Apparently I’m not nearly as irresistible as I’d hoped.”
Hanna’s red mouth pursed in puzzlement. “What exactly did he say?”
Elizabeth’s tone turned sharp, even though she knew none of this was Hanna’s fault. “Do we have to dissect it?”
“Of course we have to dissect it. How else are we going to learn from it?”
“Fine.” Elizabeth took a breath. Hanna wanted the gory details? “He said ‘I have to go meet with Collin. I’ll be back in an hour. You should work on the anniversary party catering menu.’” She was beginning to hate that catering menu. “He also said ‘Hold that thought.’”
“Ouch,” Hanna whispered in sympathy.
Elizabeth peered into the main ballroom. “Let’s go find the bar.”
“Yeah,” Hanna agreed with a rush of breath. “There are times in a woman’s life when she absolutely needs a drink.”
They started toward the main ballroom. Elizabeth wanted to hurry and disappear, but she was forced to move carefully in her sleek, silver evening gown.
“Vannick-Smythe at three o’clock,” Hanna warned in an undertone.
Elizabeth’s gaze flicked to her gossipy neighbor Vivian and made eye contact. “Uh-oh. She spotted us.”
Hanna bent her head. “Pretend we’re deep in conversation.”
“Right.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t bring her dogs,” said Hanna, referring to Vivian Vannick-Smythe’s yappy white Shih Tzus. Constantly by her side, the two dogs went uncannily well with the woman’s overdyed hair.
“I guess she couldn’t get them on the guest list,” Elizabeth speculated.
Hanna sputtered out a laugh. “Oops. Here she comes.” Then she raised her voice to conversation level. “And what did you think of yesterday’s political coup in Barasmundi?”
Elizabeth quickly jumped into the game. “I don’t think a woman can hold on to power in West Africa.” She resisted the urge to glance at Vivian, as the woman came to a halt beside them. “But if Maracitu can pull off the elections, it’ll help stabilize the north, maybe inspire the tribal leaders to participate in democratic rule.”
Hanna was a network news anchor, and an all-around political junkie. Elizabeth assumed her ploy was to make the conversation as inaccessible as possible for Vivian.
Luckily, Elizabeth was interested in world politics herself. It was one of the reasons she and Hanna had become such good friends.
Hanna put in, “I don’t see how the government can move ahead on the constitutional vote if-”
“Well, I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.” Vivian Vannick-Smythe’s drawl overrode Hanna’s words.
Elizabeth glanced up to see Vivian’s penetrating gaze fixed on her. The hostile tone took her by surprise. “Hello, Vivian.”
Vivian sniffed. “At minimum, one would think you’d let the speculation die down.”
“What speculation?” Had somebody heard she was trying to get pregnant? Or had Collin gossiped about her failed seduction attempt?
“Why, the SEC investigation, my dear,” said Vivian, a flash of triumph in her eyes and a cruel smile fighting its way to life on her face. “I don’t know what that husband of yours got up to. And, of course, it’s none of my business, but when the SEC starts investigating-”
“VivianVandoosen, isn’t it?” Hanna elbowed her way between the two women and stuck out her hand, giving Elizabeth’s mind time to scramble for a foothold on logic.
Vivian’s glare all but scalded Hanna. “Vannick-Smythe,” she corrected in an imperious voice.
“Of course,” said Hanna. “It must have slipped my mind. You understand how it is. I meet so many important people in my job, others sometimes get lost in the shuffle.”
Any other time, Elizabeth would have laughed at the insulted expression on Vivian’s face.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us,” said Hanna, linking her elbow through Elizabeth’s, all but dragging her away from the stunned Vivian.
“What’s she talking about?” Elizabeth hissed under her breath as they passed the fountain, heading toward the patio doors.
“I assumed you knew,” said Hanna, making a beeline for the ballroom. “The story won’t break until tomorrow.”
Elizabeth stopped abruptly. “There’s a story?”
Hanna looked uncomfortable. “Bert Ralston is working on it right now.”
Elizabeth felt her eyes go wide at the mention of the network’s top investigative reporter. “It’s that big?”
Hanna nodded apologetically. “Your husband and Gage Lattimer are under investigation for insider trading in Ellias Technologies stock.”
Elizabeth was speechless.
“Let’s find a drink,” said Hanna.
“How…I don’t…” Insider trading? Reed would never do something dishonest.
“How do you not know?” asked Hanna, stopping in front of a bar and the uniformed bartender who stood behind a row of sparkling glasses and a garnish tray. “Two vodka martinis.”
“He didn’t tell me.”
Hanna nodded while the man mixed the drinks. “Really.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Hanna scooped up the drinks and held one out to Elizabeth as they walked away. “Can’t help you there.”
Elizabeth closed her fingers over the fine stem of the glass. Her husband was a subject of a criminal investigation, and he hadn’t bothered to mention it?
Last night he’d told her nothing was going on. That it was a routine matter. Though clearly Collin knew what was up.
Reed’s employees knew more than his wife did. The network news knew more than she did. Even Vivian Vannick-Smythe knew more than she did.
How could Reed have put her in this position?
“Is my marriage already over?” asked Elizabeth, dread welling up inside her.
“I think,” said Hanna, obviously choosing her words with care, “you’re going to have to ask Reed that question.”
Elizabeth took a gulp of the strong drink, determination replacing distress. “That’s not the only question I’m going to ask him.”
Elizabeth’s green eyes glittered like emeralds as she turned on Reed in their penthouse foyer. �
�How do you not tell me you’re under investigation by the SEC?”
Ah, there it was. She’d been uncharacteristically silent in the limo, so he’d known something was up. At least now he could mount a defense.
He flipped on an overhead light, latching the dead bolt behind them. “It’s not a serious problem.”
Her voice went up an octave. “Not a serious problem? They’re handing out twenty-year jail sentences for white-collar crimes these days.”
“I didn’t do it,” he pointed out.
She just smiled mulishly up at him.
“You’ve got me tried, convicted and jailed.” Now, wasn’t that a vote of confidence?
“I haven’t convicted you. I’m frightened for you.”
“You sound angry.”
“I’m both.”
“You don’t need to be.”
“Oh, well. Thanks. That makes it all better.”
“You think sarcasm’s the answer?” He was perfectly willing to talk about this. But he wanted to have a reasonable, rational discussion. Mostly, he wanted to dispel her fears that he might be sentenced to jail.
“I think communication is the answer,” she responded tartly. “You know, the part where you talk to me about what’s going on in your life. Your hopes, your fears, your aspirations, your pending criminal charges.”
“How would telling you have helped?” Reed truly wanted to know.
“We could have shared the load.”
“You have your own load.”
“We’re husband and wife, Reed.”
“And husbands don’t unburden themselves by worrying their wives.”
“Sure they do. All the time.”
“Well, this husband doesn’t. You have enough to think about right now-”
“You mean like the catering menu?”
“Among other things. There was no point in both of us worrying, and I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Well, I’m plenty upset now.”
“You should stop.” He was going to take care of it. It was only a matter of time before this was wrapped up and life got back on track.
“You’re joking, right?”
“It’s nothing.” He stepped toward her. “It’ll blow over in no time.”
Marriage, Manhattan Style Page 2