At the end of those woods was a large red brick house, nearly hidden by pitch pines, white cedars, and red maples.
There was no way anyone could have followed them.
SIXTY-SEVEN
The East Hampton branch of the Sound Off alarm company was next to the newspaper office of the Independent, which was published every Wednesday.
There was only one employee on duty, and he had slipped out to smoke a cigarette. Heading back, he heard the raucous drone of the alarm and he took the steps by twos.
On his board, No. 17 was lit up, and under it the name Ryan Simon, with the address on Cranberry Hole Road.
He knew it was a fire. A burglary beeped, while a low' siren signaled a fire.
First he called the East Hampton Fire Department and then he tried to reach someone at the Simon house. There was no answer. Next he reached the Sound Off mobile truck, which was already on its way to Cranberry Hole Road.
He switched on the radio, turning the dial down to the Amagansett station that broadcast local bulletins immediately. The program was being interrupted at the exact moment for a news flash.
But it was not about a fire. It was about the death of Len Lasher, CEO of Lasher Communications, followed by a report of his only child’s kidnapping. She was eight years old, named Deanie Lasher, a blue-eyed blond, reward for her return alive $500,000.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Fina was listening to Julio Iglesias, her velvet cloth spread out on the mahogany table, under the crystal chandelier in the Frazier dining room. Her loupe was attached to a long gold chain, which Jimmy Rainbow had given her for Christmas.
She had asked him to have something engraved on the tiny gold clasp, as proof they were a couple, since he had been so insistent that their romance be kept secret until the acquisition of the Lucky We was a done deed.
In tiny letters near the 14K stamp were the words: J TO F forever. Jimmy looked at his watch and said, “I’m going out now to meet them and be sure we get that thing inside safely. When Yeats sees me, it might throw him.”
“It might. But Liam’s trustworthy.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know who is and who isn’t. If I didn’t know that by now I wouldn’t be where I am,” and she couldn’t resist adding, “plus you wouldn’t be where you are, Jimmy.”
She was humming along with Julio, who was singing “Paloma Blanca.” Julio brought her luck.
Jimmy went through the kitchen, where his .357 revolver rested on the counter. He stuck it inside his trousers.
The moment he was outdoors, he could hear the dirt bike coming through the woods, and then he saw Yeats get off and walk the bike up the path, followed by a tall redhead in a leather jacket.
“Stop right there!” Rainbow called out.
“Mr. Frazier? That isn’t you, is it?”
They stopped.
Jimmy Rainbow had on skintight thin leather gloves, a long overcoat with the collar pulled up, a fiir hat pushed down past his eyebrows, and the goggles he wore spearfishing: no way to see his face.
“Now come ahead!” he said. “The redhead stays where he is. I’ll cover him while you take the bag from him.”
Yeats came forward, muttering, “No, you’re not Ned Frazier.”
He saw the .357 before he saw Jimmy, and even when he saw Jimmy, he couldn’t see his face well.
“Someone you know is waiting inside,” Jimmy said. “She’ll want to verify the authenticity of the ring.”
He kept the gun pointed at the redhead, who was visibly trembling. Yeats began growling, “What the fuck is this?” Jimmy suspected it was slowly beginning to dawn on Liam Yeats what the fuck it was, and who the fuck it was. Yeats walked past Jimmy toward the house, holding the bag in both hands close to his chest. He closed the kitchen door behind him.
“Is Deanie in there?” the redhead had been inching toward Jimmy. “Stay where you are. She’s safe.”
“Will she be coming out?”
“Just be patient, Red. Everything is under control.”
He would have liked to hear Fina explain to Yeats that she had a partner, and who die partner was. He was looking forward to the expression in Liam’s eyes when they came face-to-face.
The big redhead was standing thei'e shifting his weight from one foot to another, rubbing his buttocks with his large palms.
Jimmy asked, “Have you ever been on a dirt bike before?”
“No, never.”
“Hard on the ass, hmm?”
“Yes. You don’t have to keep that gun aimed at me. I’m not going anyplace.”
“I don’t know that yet. ... I hope the Lashers weren’t foolish enough to try and substitute something else for what we want. My lady’s an expert. She’ll know.”
“It’s what you want,” said Delroy Davenport.
They stood there silendy for a while. It was beginning to get dark.
“Has Deanie had anything to eat?” Davenport asked.
“Of course!”
“It’s getting cold, too.”
“She’s warm and she’s been fed.”
Finally Jimmy walked backward very slowly, then reached behind himself, pushing open the kitchen door. He shouted in, “Okay?”
“Yes! Okay! Let him go.” ■
Jimmy said to the redhead, “Now listen carefully. The child is going to be released safe and sound near the Lashers’ house just as soon as we can get to her, and so long as no one interferes with us, or comes here before we leave. No tricks! It’s almost over! Don’t spoil things now that you’re this close to having her home. It wouldn’t pay us to have anything happen to her, and nothing will if you walk back through the woods to your car. Go to the Lashers’ and wait for her. If you do anything different, you put her life in danger.”
He stood there looking at Rainbow, rubbing his hands together.
“This can be snow white clean or bloody dirty, it’s up to you, Red,” Jimmy said.
“I’ll take the road,” he finally said.
“You’ll take the woods. It’s not that dark yet. Go on.”
“How do I know Deanie’s safe?”
“You don’t. But she is. We’re thieves. None of us wants to hurt a child. We’ve got kids ourselves.”
He watched while Delroy Davenport turned and trudged down the path away from the road and into the woods.
Then Rainbow went inside.
He stopped long enough to remove his hat and goggles, then grab the Krug from the refrigerator and carry it into the dining room.
Whatever Fina had said about him to Liam Yeats hadn’t done anything to diminish the contempt Liam had for Jimmy. It was as clear in his eyes as the dark brown of his irises, hard little angry needles.
Fina said, “Give Liam his money. He wants to get out of here!” Jimmy Rainbow looked at Liam and said, “We want to know what happened to Nell.”
Fina said, “ We don’t want to know what happened to her. I don’t care what happened to her. Pay him and he’ll meet us in Manhattan for the second payment.”
“What did Nell tell you yesterday?” Liam asked.
Rainbow answered, “I haven’t talked to her in years.” He set the Krug on the table. “There are three glasses right behind you, Liam. Let’s have a wee toast, hmm?”
“You were in East Hampton last night, weren’t you?” Liam asked Rainbow.
“Yes, of course.”
“And you followed me to Maritime Way?”
Rainbow gave Liam a look. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought I saw you last night.”
“Fina? What’s he talking about?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care!”
“Then never mind,” said Liam. “I have to go back for the child now.”
“Where is she?” Rainbow asked.
“In Ryan Simon’s attic up on Cranberry Hole Road.”
“I do not want to hear this!” Fina said. “It’s none of our business! Give him the money and send him on
his way, Jimmy! . . . This is a beauty!” Fina was slipping the ring back into the Sportsac. “I can see why somebody becomes a collector.”
Jimmy twisted the cork off the botde. It popped and some of the champagne spilled from the neck of the botde. “You know how you think Julio Iglesias brings you luck, Fina? I think a champagne toast does.”
“I said ‘no, thanks,’” Liam told him.
“Just pay him, Jimmy.”
“OK. Put two glasses on the table for you and me then,” Rainbow said. “I suppose you want to count your money, Yeats.”
“Yes, I certainly do.”
“Take your coat off. Sit down and count it.” Jimmy put his old camera case on the table. “It’s all there.”
Yeats took off his jacket, reached in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, and looked around for an ashtray.
“Uh-oh,” Jimmy said. “I guess Fina didn’t tell you this is a smoke-free house.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” Fina said.
“Gun smoke’s allowed, though,” said Jimmy. He flipped his gun out of the top of his trousers, aimed the gun at Yeats, shot him through the head, then fired a second shot at Fina.
He was a good shot.
They were both dead.
Fina sat at the table bloody facedown, but Liam had thrown back his head and it hung to one side dripping blood on his Members Only shirt. Two crystal wineglasses were between them and the botde of Krug. A litde mystery scenario for the police to ponder.
Then Jimmy picked up the Sportsac, put the camera case inside, and, smiling, went out the door.
Fina and Jimmy had never gone anyplace in the same car. Her Toyota stood beside his Audi down near the road.
He had not checked in at Gurney’s so he didn’t need to check out. He had already packed the few things he’d taken to the litde bungalow at Gurney’s that Fina had rented for them.
There was just one last thing to do, and Jimmy Rainbow removed his gloves, put them in the glove compartment with his gun, turned the key in the ignition, and took off to do it.
SIXTY-NINE
The Crepidula fornicata is one hundred percent male when young, but once it has reached sexual maturity this slipper snail reverses its sex status and becomes totally female.
After the police left her apartment with Nell Slack in tow, Dr. Loeper returned to her research, grateful for the simplicity and ingenuity of mol-luscan life.
Whether she was describing the Crepidula, or the common garden-variety land snail, a gastropod possessing both male and female sex organs, capable of reproducing autogenetically, any anxieties she might feel were swept away by this far more intriguing and compelling subject matter.
People were so often disappointing.
Whatever explained a Nell Slack, it had become impossible for Ginny to excuse her or think of her any longer as a friend.
Ginny wished she had never run into Scotti House at Metamorphs. It was distressing to have become a part of this kidnapping, however small her role in it. Yet that serendipitous encounter may well have been the catalyst for Nell Slack’s arrest.
“Another species has no male members,” Ginny continued writing. “Their eggs develop without fertilization, a form of—” but the clock in the corner began the count to six.
Ginny usually waited for prime-time news at six-thirty.
But finally, enough curiosity about the real world seeped into her consciousness, and she saved and exited her Apple.
She turned on the TV and went into the kitchen to make another cup of tea, stopped by the words:
“Good evening! A report just in from Suffolk County police ...” She turned the heat off from under the kettle and went back into her living room, in time to see none other than Scotti House herself. She had her arm around a child whose face was covered by a blanket. They were being rushed through a small crowd by several policemen.
“The only child of the late Len Lasher, of Lasher Communications, was rescued from kidnappers thanks to a smoke alarm in the house of artist Urian Simonides, who calls himself Ryan Simon. A local East Hampton house watcher named Liam Yeats is wanted by the police in connection with—”
. . the crime. A reward of $500,000 was offered for the safe return of Deanie Lasher, whose father died of a heart attack last evening without ever knowing his child had been abducted ...”
Lara lowered the volume and put the remote beside her on the couch. “$500,000?” She looked at Jack Burlingame. “Who said?”
“You said. I asked you if there shouldn’t be a reward when the police lost track of Delroy and you said okay. I said we’d better make it big, better do $500,000, and you said okay.”
“I was out of my mind at that point.”
“Well, it’s on record now and my God, Lara, we have Deanie back!”
“We don’t have her back yet. Why won’t they let me go to her?” “Abrahams says it’s too chaotic. The press is all over the place. It’s better to have her brought here. As long as you’re worrying, worry about Delroy.”
“I am worried about him. It’s just that I have no recollection of offering $500,000. When I add up what the past twenty-four hours have cost it boggles the mind!”
Jack said, “What happened to ‘now is a good time to lose the ring what with Len gone’ and so forth? Do you remember saying that?”
“Don’t be a bastard, Jack! I know you’re good at it, but try to hide your talent for it right now. I just want to see Deanie come through that door.”
“And so do I, Lara. Followed by Delroy.”
“Don’t group Delroy with my daughter!”
“They could have killed him, you know.”
“For what?”
“For being able to identify them. When he went to meet them, they still believed they were getting away with it.”
“Just who gets this $500,000?”
“I’d say the woman who rescued her. That House woman Mario was taking out.”
“How did she get involved in all this? Wasn’t her mother the one Delroy was always visiting?”
Before Jack Burlingame could answer, Deanie burst through the front door.
“Daddy? Mother?”
Jack resisted the impulse to ask Lara if it wasn’t worth $500,000 to hear that?
Bound for Manhattan on 495, Jimmy wished he could call Bally on his cell, just to have someone to tell that all was well, since there was no one else he could tell. But Fina had been right about Bally: he didn’t
want blow-by-blow accounts of how he came into possession of his stones.
Now that it was all over the news, Bally would probably still not know anything about it. He was famous not only for removing himself from the whys and wherefores of his business, and from the few fences he trusted, but also for supposedly removing himself from the world at large.
Jimmy had been right in guessing that Bally could not quite trust Jose-fina Merola. She was not in a class with the providers he was accustomed to. Besides that, why pay out more than necessary? Jimmy Rainbow was not a greedy man. He would sell the Lucky We to Bally for $1,000,000— the $800,000 that would have gone to Liam and Nell, and another $200,000 in memory of Fina. That would be a good deal for Bally, one he might well remember if he should ever have occasion to do business with Jimmy Rainbow in the future.
Fina had been careless. From the moment she made her deal with Liam, and then invited Rainbow into a partnership with her, it never occurred to her that Jimmy would be able to discover who “Mr. Smith” really was.
The less curious Jimmy Rainbow pretended to be, the more Fina bragged to impress him, mentioning that “Smith” lived in Zurich, that he kept a suite at the St. Regis, on and on until all Jimmy had to do was make a few inquiries of the right people.
Like any collector of his ilk, Anton Bally knew who was in possession of all the Windsor jewels. Bally’s forte was knowing wrhat had become of the world’s priceless estate jewelry. What he could add to his own collection he did, usually arriving on his Gulfstream IV to
take possession personally.
Although a collector like Bally was rarely visibly rich, his name seldom recognizable in society or to media people, representatives of dealers in rare and precious gems knew him indeed.
It hadn’t taken Jimmy very long at all to learn his name and how to contact him.
Jimmy had telephoned him to say, “If Fina were reliable, she wouldn’t have let me know your identity. I’m more reliable and a lot less expensive.”
Bally did not need to be persuaded any further, just as Fina would wave away details of the nuts and bolts involved in acquiring what she fenced.
The deal was set in a perfunctory but cordial verbal agreement. Jimmy would be at LaGuardia Airport early in the morning, after a brief overnight stay in Manhattan.
Jimmy turned off the car radio, deciding that Anton Bally’s modus operandi had more finesse. Shut it all out. There would be no one, nothing to connect him with what was taking place in the Hamptons. Wherever Nell was, she would not have a clue, either, that he had teamed up with Fina. Fina Merola would be the last person anyone would imagined involved with Jimmy Rainbow.
He shoved in a tape, a string quartet playing Mozart.
He thought about St. Barts. He’d never have taken someone like Fina there. The kind of woman he was looking for would own the Lucky We, not fence it. The last time he had visited St. Barts he’d stayed at Guana-hani, but this time he would prefer a place less flashy, subtler: the Hotel Le Toiny.
Yes.
He smiled as he raced through the night, imagining himself in the sun, or a sandy beach, nearly naked, far away from winter . . . rich.
His face was scratched from stumbling through the woods as it grew dark, knees bruised from falling, feet blistered from walking until he reached the road. A truck driver took him to Le Reve. There the police were waiting for him, along with Abrahams, who was hell-bent on finding Liam Yeats.
Because Delroy had remembered the biker asking, “Is that you, Mr. Frazier?” they had taken Delroy to the house in the woods at the corner of North Bay Lane.
Yeats seemed to have slumped from the Fraziers’ table to their floor, in a bloody heap, while a small brunette sat facedown in blood before a full botde of Krug and two blood-spotted, fluted glasses.
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