“Believe me, Phillip knows how much that little boy loves you. He’s jealous because Todd doesn’t feel the same way about him.”
Laura giggled as champagne bubbles tickled her nose. “You always make me feel better about myself. How can I thank you?”
“You can do that by being happy. That’s all I want for you and Todd. Oh, and for you to remember that I’ll always be here for you.”
“Look at that,” Laura said, pointing at the tears that had filled her aunt’s eyes. “What would Dutch Schultz or Al Capone say if they could see you now?”
Virginia threw back her head and laughed, sniffing away the telltale tears. “I think they’d probably say I was an imposter, and the real Virginia Kingsley was dead. Whatever you do, make sure this never gets out. I have a reputation to maintain.”
Laura placed her finger against her lips. “Not a word.”
“So tell me. What you’ve been doing lately?”
Laura told her about the article she’d written, and the novel she was starting to put together. “I have no idea whether I’m ever going to finish it, but it’s something I’ve thought about doing for several years.”
“When you were a little girl you used to write short stories. After your mother and father died I found them in a box in your mother’s closet.”
Laura flicked an interested eyebrow. “Do you still have them?”
“Come with me.”
They climbed two flights of stairs, and when they stopped they stood in a part of the house which was obviously in the middle of being redecorated. The walls were partially painted and the floor was crowded with painting supplies, drop cloths and piles of lumber.
“What’s going on up here?” Laura asked.
“You know how much I always hated these four fussy little rooms. Well, I’m having them done over into two large rooms. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to use them for, but I’ll do that when they’re finished.” She took Laura’s hand. “Come with me.”
Virginia led her into the smallest of the four rooms. Inside was an old rolltop desk that Laura immediately recognized as having belonged to her father. She ran her hand over the top of the desk, imagining him sitting at it. He had died so many years before she felt only curiosity, not grief. Virginia left her to her memories, then climbed onto a chair and slid a box from the top shelf. She placed it on top of the desk then opened it and pulled out a sheath of papers.
“I remember this,” Laura said, grinning. “I must have been around seven when I wrote this one about the two fairies. Have you read any of them?”
“Of course. I’ve read all of them. Your mother and father thought they were wonderful. They loved your imagination.”
“They did?” For just a moment, Laura was a child again. She touched the papers lightly, as if she were afraid they’d crumble into dust. “Can I have them? For Todd.”
Chapter Three
Virginia stretched like a sleek black cat in the four poster mahogany bed, trying not to purr as she gazed at Rudy Strauss' retreating figure. She'd bought the huge bed from a redheaded woman who owned an antique shop in Greenwich Village. The woman liked to tell tall tales, like the one she'd told Virginia about the Prince of Wales having once owned the bed. Virginia hadn't minded. She liked stories.
Rudy was patient where other men rushed, and that had made for a most enjoyable afternoon. Tired, spent and more thoroughly satisfied than she'd ever admit, she reluctantly slid off him and rested her hand on his chiseled abdomen.
“Never let anyone tell you that you aren’t good for anything, Rudy.”
A slow, stupid grin of male pride stretched across his dark features.
“Not for that, anyway,” she said, smiling in spite of herself.
He looked at her blankly. She shrugged, then pointed to a bottle of champagne chilling in a wooden bucket on the bedside table. “Go ahead and open it. I’d say we’ve earned a bit of refreshment.”
“The whole day’s been great,” Rudy said, heading toward the bucket. Virginia watched his big fingers pick at the foil on the top of the bottle. Skillful fingers despite their size, she thought. The foil peeled off neatly and he dropped it on the table before addressing the cork. “Your life’s the bees knees, baby. You’ve got the greatest speak in the city.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “Any regrets?”
She flicked an eyebrow in question.“Like what? Meeting you?”
“Kids, marriage, you know.”
“What are you, a comedian?”
She lowered her feet onto the plush red carpet and reached for her dressing gown. The carpet was warm as summer grass under her feet and her toes curled appreciatively as she walked toward the window. Scooping open the red velvet drapes, Virginia peered outside. Central Park was busy in the late afternoon sun. Especially by the fountains. So far, 1930 had been the hottest summer anyone could remember.
The bedroom suite was enormous, having once been two rooms. She'd painted the top half of the wall white, the bottom a deep burgundy. From beside the table the cork popped and she heard bubbles hissing in crystal. She turned toward Rudy, who held two full glasses, one of them stretched toward her. Leaving the sun to flood into the room, she headed toward him, hand outstretched for her glass.
“How's your niece’s kid?”
She sipped, then frowned. “Why are you so interested in him? You hate kids. Last time my assistant Harry brought his granddaughter in you looked at her like she had the clap.”
“You can trust me.”
“The hell I can. My family is off limits to you. Understand?”
Ignoring his indignant huff, she sat at her vanity and stared at her reflection. Since she'd turned forty, three years earlier, she’d begun to notice subtle changes in her skin she didn’t like. With a sigh, she applied a layer of cold cream to her face, then gently removed it with a tissue. Rudy came up from behind and cupped her shoulders in his hands. Their eyes met in the mirror.
“You’re gorgeous, baby, absolutely gorgeous.”
She turned and looked at him. “Listen, Rudy. A rat is still a rat even if it has a smile on its face. I know perfectly well who and what you are. Don’t ever try to fool me. Stay out of my personal life and my family's.”
“Or else what?”
“You'll pay the consequences.”
“You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” Rudy asked, unimpressed by the threat.
“Who?”
“Your niece. I see that worried look in your eyes whenever anyone mentions Laura.”
“So now you’re interested in my niece. What’s going on, Rudy?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never met her.”
Virginia glanced at him sideways, then shifted the clock on her bedside table so she could see it. “We have to get moving.”
***
When Rudy heard the bathroom door close behind her, he slid open her bedside table drawer. It was empty apart from scattered Q-tips, a box of toothpicks and a razor. Kneeling down, he peered under the bed, then pulled out the large box there. Inside were six neatly folded cashmere sweaters.
He was about to get up off his knees when he realized the bath water had stopped running. She hadn’t had time to fill the tub. He made a mad dash for the chaise lounge, then heard the click of a closet door. A few seconds later, the bath water was running again.
She probably had two address books, he figured. One for family and friends, and one the cops would love to get a hold of. He walked around the room trying to get a feel for where the mysterious books might be. She had two mahogany dressers, and he opened the bottom drawer of the taller of the two, then smiled when he saw the picture album. He flipped open the first couple of pages and stopped at two photographs of a little blond boy. The lad was playing in a pond that had to be on his father’s estate. It wasn’t exactly what he'd been looking for, but it gave him an idea. He flipped through the rest of the photographs quickly and found another, this one
focused on the entrance to the estate.
The jingle of the telephone interrupted him. For a second he stood frozen, his hand poised on top of the album. Then he closed the dresser drawer, sat on the bed and waited for her to come into the room and answer the phone.
When it stopped ringing, he waited a few more seconds, then grabbed a couple of toothpicks from the bedside drawer to calm his nerves. Then he headed toward her walk-in closet and opened the double doors.
The old closet bubbled over with color, bright against the faded white walls. It wasn’t until he pushed some of her evening gowns aside that he noticed a section of the back wall seemed to be freshly painted. He pressed his hand against the panel then stepped back in surprise as a rush of hot air hit his face. Peering curiously through the new opening, Rudy saw a room about the same size as her closet. He stepped inside.
The first thing he saw was row after row of champagne bottles. There had to be three or four hundred of them. To the left sat a couple of large boxes which he began to sort through. Finally he sat back, chuckling, and pulled out a small book filled with names and addresses.
Of course, he thought. He bought his booze from her.
***
Virginia strode back into the bedroom when she'd finished her bath, and flipped on the radio just in time to hear the opening music for Amos n’ Andy. Rudy lay on the chaise lounge, smoking a cigarette and reading the racing form. He gazed up at her with deep brown eyes and she yanked the cigarette out of his mouth.
“If you had any clothes on, I’d make you empty your pockets.”
He ignored her, standing to admire himself in the full-length mirror. Rudy was always fishing for compliments. He thought he was a dead ringer for Rudolph Valentino.
“What statue did you say I looked like?”
“David.”
“Who’s he?”
“Never mind. You don’t need culture in your line of work.”
She rolled a silk stocking over one long, shapely leg, then attached the garter in front. She felt his eyes on her as she stretched her leg out to reach the snap in the back.
“Some pair of legs, baby.”
“What a cake-eater you are.” She frowned and pointed at the floor. “Just look at that mess. Toothpicks all over my beautiful rug. Pick them up and put them in the waste paper basket.”
“Don’t have a kitten.”
When they got downstairs he tugged open the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of champagne, shimmering with a fine coating of frost. Virginia took it from him and held the cold bottle to her temple, closing her eyes with relief. Mercy, it was hot.
“Ours?” he asked.
Her amber eyes snapped open, burning with warning. “Mine. Not yours. I don’t need a partner, and if I did….”
“Oh, come on,” he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “You need me. Like it or not, you’re playing a man’s game. That sharp tongue of yours will only get you so far. Maybe it’s time you start being more realistic.”
“Silly, silly me,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “How did I not realize I needed the guidance of a man like you?”
“You may not think you do, but you’re wrong. Women aren’t any good at business. You’ve just been lucky so far.”
She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. Anger bubbled like champagne in her veins. “You’re a worthless punk who’d be out on the street if I hadn’t given you a job.” He chuckled, which only fed her anger. “You know what? I'm done. I'm sick of this. Get out.”
“What did I say?”
Grabbing him by his shirt collar, she dragged him into the living room, toward the door. “You’re a fool to think you can get a piece of my business, Rudy Strauss. You’ll never outsmart me.”
“Hey, you’re choking me.”
“I don’t give a damn. Get out of my house.”
He gave her a final, confused glance, and she shoved him out the door, slamming it behind him.
***
Two nights later, when Rudy showed up at Virginia’s speakeasy, Bacchanal, she was surprised but not shocked. He was always doing things he shouldn’t do. She figured the best thing to do was ignore him, so she did. He sat at the bar and ordered a drink, then tried to engage one of the hostesses in a conversation, but they weren’t supposed to socialize with customers while they were working. What they did on their own time was their business.
Virginia couldn’t help noticing how he looked her way every few minutes with a scowl of dislike. Then she realised he was looking past her and staring at Phillip. That was strange. Rudy was glaring at Phillip as if he wished the man were dead. In a way, she almost agreed with him. Phillip had annoyed her all night, complaining about Laura or eyeing every pretty girl who passed their table. Virginia didn’t like the way he treated her niece. Even though she had once tried to bring them together, she couldn’t help thinking Laura might be better off without him.
“Is she interested in some other guy?” Phillip had asked earlier.
“Laura?” Virginia poured herself more champagne and swept her dark brown hair behind her shoulders so it fell down her back, out of the way. “How would I know? I don’t follow her around.”
He indicated her champagne bottle. “How about me?”
She chuckled and sipped her drink. “I think you’ve had enough.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Virginia noticed Rudy walking toward their table and braced herself for some unpleasantness. Though he’d only been there a few minutes, she could tell from his expression he’d already had far too much to drink.
Phillip was watching him too, disgust coloring his expression. Virginia began to wish she’d stayed home that night.
“Boss lady,” Rudy said, slurring his words together. “Red sure as hell is your color.”
Phillip looked as if he were going to be sick. “Oh, come on. Why is he bothering us? Doesn’t he have hole to crawl into someplace? Why do you associate with such low lives, Virginia?”
Rudy put his hand on Phillip’s chair. Virginia saw Phillip’s back stiffen, and anger flared so hot in his eyes she actually felt slightly afraid. But his expression didn’t come close to matching Rudy’s.
“Get your hand off my chair,” Phillip said.
Rudy removed his hand from Phillip’s back then walked around so he stood in front of Phillip. “I’m not good enough for you, am I? You’re a rich as hell hotshot movie star, and I’m a two bit nothing, right?”
Phillip shrugged. “You have no business with us, so why are you here? Go back to the bar with your friends.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Movie Star.” He gave Virginia a fleeting look tempered with a sneer. “You have no business with me, do you?”
She didn’t answer, and he walked away.
Chapter Four
Laura lifted the damp hair from the back of her neck and stretched, hoping for some relief from the heat. Digging in a drawer, she found a barrette to pin up her hair, then glanced at the clock. It was almost noon. Laura stared at the paper in front of her, but the heat had made her as dull and lifeless as the two main characters in her novel. No matter how many times she rewrote the first chapter, the dialogue sounded flat.
What was Todd doing now? Probably playing in the water. She imagined the little boy splashing in the pond behind the mansion and smiled. Mrs Nickerson would have taken him there to cool off.
Slumping to her room, Laura peeled off her robe and tugged on a much cooler pair of Chinese pajamas. The only possible place to sit in this heat was in front of the electric fan, which is where she went to attempt Thomas Wolfe’s new novel, Look Homeward Angel. No use. She couldn’t concentrate. She considered calling one of her girlfriends and going to a movie. One of those air-cooled theatres would feel good.
The phone rang, jarring her from her musings. Ordinarily, the sound would have irritated Laura. It interrupted her train of thought when she was writing. Today she welcomed the distraction.
“Hello?”
At
first all Laura heard was someone breathing hard on the other end, then a muffled sob. She rolled her eyes. Not again. She'd gotten a crank call a couple of days earlier and was about to hang up when Mrs Nickerson’s hoarse voice crackled over the wire.
“Mrs Nickerson? Is that you? What’s wrong?” Laura demanded.
“Oh dear God!” The nanny's voice rose and fell as she sobbed. “The baby’s been kidnapped!”
“What? Mrs Nickerson, calm down. What are you talking about? Where's Todd? What's happening?” Laura said.
The nanny wailed, and all Laura could make out was “Dear God! Dear God! Oh, the poor little boy!”
A tremor began in Laura's fingers and spread like fire throughout her body. This couldn't be happening. The phone felt slick in her hand and fell through her fingers, landing with a soft thud on the carpet. When she bent to pick it up she was caught by a wave of dizziness, and let herself slide to the floor. Leaning against the wall for support, she reached for the phone and spoke as calmly as she could.
“Mrs Nickerson,” she said, fighting the wobble in her voice. The image of Todd's sweet face popped up in her mind, his soft blond curls bouncing under her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut. “What happened? Where is Todd?”
“Oh Laura,” said the older woman. “We were at Willow Pond. He was having a wonderful time. You know how much he loves the water.”
Panic set in. “You are sure he didn't go under the water, Iris?”
“No! No! I was watching him play. One minute he was laughing, and the next – Well, whoever it was, he hit me over the head with something heavy. I woke up on the ground and our baby was gone.”
“But … But … Who could have done this? Why?” Laura's voice broke and bile burned up her throat. “Who did this?” she demanded. “Did you see who did this? Iris, please help me!”
“I couldn’t see kidnapper’s face. He was wearing a clown’s mask.”
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