Forcing herself to stay calm, Lexi folded Eve’s letter and slipped it into her bra. Then, making a deliberate effort to slow her breathing, she walked downstairs. By some miracle, the entryway was deserted. She could hear Gabe and Robbie’s voices in her father’s study. She would have to act quickly.
“Come in. I’ve been expecting you.”
She opened the front door to the house with a smile. Two cops stood on the porch. One was young, not more than thirty, good-looking and Hispanic. The other was older, about Lexi’s own age, pale-skinned and balding. I wonder which one is the boss?
Both men looked awkward. To be greeted by Lexi Templeton herself, still in her wedding dress, seemed to throw them off stride. Didn’t people like her have butlers to answer the door? And how in the hell was she expecting them?
Lexi said, “Follow me. I’ll take you somewhere we can talk in private.”
Detective Shaw looked at Detective Sanchez. Normally, they took the lead when making an arrest. But Lieutenant Carey had made it very clear he wanted this thing handled “softly softly.” They decided to let it slide.
“Sure thing, ma’am. After you.”
Lexi took them to the library. On the second floor of the house, it had once been Kate Blackwell’s pride and joy. A sumptuous, welcoming room with wine-red brocade chairs and cozy, wood-paneled walls, it oozed understated wealth and breeding. Class. Lexi gestured for the policemen to sit down. She locked the door behind them. “So we won’t be disturbed.”
Detective Shaw began. “We’re sorry to have to do this on your wedding day, ma’am.”
Lexi shook her head. “Please, don’t apologize. You’re doing your job. I’m assuming you received a copy of a letter from my aunt, Eve Blackwell?”
The detectives exchanged glances again.
“That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Detective Sanchez said: “I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to discuss that, ma’am.”
“You do know she was insane? Toward the end, she barely knew her own name, poor thing.”
“I think it would be better if we had this conversation at the station.”
Lexi’s face fell. “I see.” She looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, in her wedding dress, Detective Sanchez felt horrible. He wanted to make love to her, not arrest her.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Well…we’d rather not make it formal till we get to the station,” he said kindly. “You have the right to have a lawyer present. I think the less said right now the better.”
Lexi nodded calmly. “I quite understand. Can you give me a few minutes to change and talk to my husband?”
Detective Shaw looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know about that, ma’am.”
“Please. I’d like to explain to him about this misunderstanding before we leave.”
Detective Shaw thought: Misunderstanding, my ass.
Detective Sanchez said: “Of course. Take your time.”
Once Lexi had gone, Detective Shaw let his partner have it. “What the hell was that about? We’re supposed to be bringing her in for fraud, not asking her on a date.”
“Come on, man. It’s her wedding day. Have a heart, would you?”
“She’s a crook, Antonio.”
Detective Sanchez shrugged. “It’s still her wedding day.”
Gabe ran into Lexi at the top of the stairs.
“There you are. Where on earth have you been? I’ve been looking for you for hours.”
“I’m sorry, darling.” She kissed him, savoring the feel of his lips on hers. I can’t lose him. I can’t.
“Do you know the police are here? Security just spoke to Robbie. They said they had to speak with you urgently.”
“I know. I let them in. They’re here to arrest me.”
Gabe’s eyes widened. “Arrest you? Arrest you for what?”
Lexi took his hand and led him back into the bedroom, locking the door behind them. There was no way around it. She would have to tell him the truth. Without Gabe’s help, and Robbie’s, her plan would fail.
“You remember when you proposed to me? At the abortion clinic?”
Gabe shuddered. Memories of that day-how close they’d come to losing little Max-still gave him nightmares.
“Of course I do.”
“Do you remember what you said to me?”
“Something along the lines of “Will you marry me,’ I suspect. Why?”
“No.” Lexi looked at him urgently. “Your exact words. Do you remember?”
“Not exactly, no. But why is it so-”
“You said: ‘Nothing is unforgivable.’” Lexi clasped his hand. “You said: ‘Whatever you’ve done, Lexi, I don’t care. I love you as you are.’”
Gabe remembered. He remembered his desperation that day. He’d have done anything to get her back.
“Did you mean it?”
He thought for a moment.
“Yes. I meant it. Whatever trouble you’re in, Lex, you can tell me. We’ll face it together.”
Reaching down her dress, Lexi pulled out Eve’s letter.
“Read this.”
THIRTY
GABE READ THE LETTER IN SILENCE. THEN HE READ IT again. By the time he looked up, Lexi had changed out of her wedding dress into a jeans and a sweater and was hastily packing an overnight bag.
Gabe had a million questions: How, why, when? But there was no time for any of them. Lexi, as ever, was in control.
“Two detectives are waiting in the library. When I get to the station, they’re going to arrest me. We don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?” Poor Gabe couldn’t keep up. A few short hours ago he’d been the happiest man in the world. Now he was sleepwalking through a nightmare.
Stuffing her passport into the overnight bag, Lexi zipped it up and thrust it into his hands. “Time to escape, of course. Now listen carefully. This is the plan.”
All the other wedding guests had left, but August Sandford was still in the kitchen. Deep in debate with Paolo Cozmici over a bottle of Ychem that was too good to be hurried, he’d lost track of time.
“Christ.” He looked at his watch. “I gotta go. My wife’ll think I’ve been fooling around with one of the bridesmaids.” Swaying happily, he staggered out onto the front lawn. Lexi, flanked by two cops, was climbing into the back of a squad car. A few feet away, Gabe McGregor stood watching, ashen-faced.
August rubbed his eyes. He must be drunker than he thought.
“Gabe? What the hell’s happening?”
“They’re arresting her.” Gabe’s voice was a monotone. He was clearly still in shock. “Eve Blackwell’s lawyers are accusing Lexi of fraud. Something to do with short-selling Kruger-Brent stock. It’s all bullshit.”
“Of course it is.” August put a comforting arm around Gabe’s shoulders. “Jesus. What a screwup. Is there anything I can do?”
“No. Just keep it to yourself. Lexi’s attorney should have things straightened out in an hour or so.” Gabe looked dazed. “We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon.”
“You will be,” said August. “Seriously, don’t worry. This is obviously just a crazy mistake.”
Alone in his car two minutes later, sober as a judge, August put in an urgent call to his broker.
“Bill? I think you’d better sell my Kruger-Brent stock. Uh-huh, yes. All of it. As soon as the markets open on Monday, I want you to dump the lot.”
August Sandford had no idea what sort of trouble Lexi had gotten herself into this time. And he didn’t want to know. She had brought Kruger-Brent back from the dead once. He’d always be grateful to her for that. But one more scandal and they were finished.
Not even Lazarus rose twice.
THIRTY-ONE
GRETA, MAXINE MCGREGOR’S NANNY, HAD MISSED THE drama of her boss’s arrest. A thirty-year-old Swede with flaxen hair and strong, childbearing hips, Greta Sorensen had been a professional nanny for nine years. Long enough to know that jobs like this one, working for ric
h and famous clients like Lexi Templeton, might sound glamorous, but in reality, they were damned hard work. With so many people in the house today, it had taken Greta ages to settle little Max down to sleep. Now, with her charge at last dozing in her crib, the nanny was slumped on the nursery sofa in front of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, snoring loudly.
Gabe walked in and shook her by the shoulder.
“Sorry, sir.” Greta jumped. “I was just resting my eyes. Max is fast asleep next door. I’d have woken up if she stirred.”
“It’s all right, Greta.”
“I thought you and Mrs. McGregor had left for your honeymoon. Did you want to say good-bye to the baby?”
“Actually, there’s been a change of plan. Mrs. McGregor’s been…er…detained. She’ll be flying out to join us in a day or two.”
The nanny looked puzzled. “To join us?”
“Yes. We’ve decided to take Maxine on the honeymoon with us after all. Lexi couldn’t bear to leave her in the end, so you’ll fly out with me tonight. How soon can you pack?”
Greta gritted her teeth and turned off the television. “I’ll need an hour to get all the baby’s things together, sir.” Why did rich people always change their minds at the last minute, and expect everybody else to pick up the pieces? Traveling with an infant was like a major military operation. You couldn’t just get up and go.
“You’ve got twenty minutes,” said Gabe. “Ask one of the maids for help if you need it. There’s a boat waiting at the jetty to take us to the mainland. It’s a short ride to the airport from there.”
“May I ask where we’re going, sir?”
“Turks and Caicos.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t look so worried,” said Gabe. “You’ll love it.”
Lieutenant John Carey felt the sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had taken a big risk, arresting Lexi Templeton right here in Dark Harbor and bringing her in to the local police station for questioning. This case was so huge, the biggest fraud since Bernie Madoff. Once word got out, everyone would want a piece of it: the FBI, the fraud squad, Interpol. But John Carey had decided to make them all wait.
Why should I let some FBI hotshot waltz in and steal all the glory from right under my nose? We made a nice, clean arrest. All I need now is a nice, clean confession.
“So, Ms. Templeton. Let’s get to the point, shall we? Was bankrupting Kruger-Brent, Limited, your idea? Or Mr. Kolepp’s?”
Mark Hambly, Lexi’s bull terrier of an attorney, whispered in her ear.
“You don’t have to answer that.”
Lexi had known Mark for years. A squat, broad-shouldered man with a wide neck and short, muscled arms, he looked more like a bare-knuckle prizefighter than a lawyer. Appropriately, since plenty of prosecutors had left courtrooms where Mark Hambly was defending feeling like they’d gone ten rounds with Godzilla. Other defense attorneys relied on subtlety, coaxing juries, pointing out nuances and shades of gray in the evidence. Not Mark Hambly. He ran over juries like a dump truck. It was one of the many things Lexi loved about him.
Thank God I invited him to the wedding, thought Lexi. If Mark had been in New York and I’d had to get some local lawyer…She shuddered at the thought.
Lieutenant Carey pressed on. “Were you aware that Mr. Kolepp was intending to flee to South America?”
Mark Hambly shook his head at Lexi. Don’t answer.
“When was the last time you spoke to Mr. Kolepp?”
Another head shake.
Lieutenant Carey lost his temper. Who did this fancy New York attorney think he was dealing with?
“Listen, you arrogant prick. I’m asking the lady, not you. She’s not doing herself any favors by being so obstructive, you know. You think these tapes are gonna sound good in court? Do you?”
Lexi spoke up. “It’s all right, Mark. I’m happy to answer the Lieutenant’s questions. I’ve got nothing to hide. You can go home now.”
Mark Hambly’s jaw practically hit the Formica table. Lexi Templeton was a smart cookie. She couldn’t be serious about talking to this schmuck without a lawyer present. Could she?
“Lexi, trust me, that’s not a good idea. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“Really, Mark. It’s fine.”
A grin of triumph spread over Lieutenant Carey’s face.
“You heard her, Mark. Go home.”
“Perhaps there’s a more comfortable room we could use, Lieutenant?” Lexi gave John Carey her most winning smile, the same one that had melted the heart of Detective Sanchez earlier. “My sense is this is going to take a while. These chairs are awfully hard.”
Mark Hambly pleaded: “Lexi, come on, this is crazy. Don’t talk to this idiot alone.”
“This idiot?” It was all John Carey could do not to grab the lawyer by the throat and throttle him. “Are you deaf, buddy? She asked you to leave.”
Mark Hambly looked helplessly at his client, but it was no use. He picked up his briefcase and left without another word.
Lieutenant Carey turned his attention back to Lexi.
I’m starting to like this woman.
“We’ll move into room three, Ms. Templeton. There’s a couch in there. I’ll have my guys bring you something to eat if you like.”
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”
My pleasure. You talk to me, sweetheart, and you can have anything you want.
Greta Sorensen looked worried. She was in the back of a limousine with Gabe, speeding toward the airport.
“I’m not sure, Mr. McGregor. I could get into trouble.”
“Not if you stick to the story. The airline is fully informed.”
Greta frowned.
“I’m still not sure.”
Gabe pulled out his checkbook. “Would fifty thousand dollars help to ease your mind at all?”
Greta looked at the check. Then she looked at Gabe. Finally, she looked at baby Maxine, dreaming away in her car seat, blissfully unaware of the high-stakes game in which she was about to become an unwitting pawn. Greta held out her hand.
“You know what, Mr. McGregor? I believe it would ease my mind.”
Gabe grinned and passed her the check.
He’d always liked Swedish girls.
The new interview room was painted a bright, cheery yellow, with a striped rug, paintings on the wall, and a pair of matching faux-suede couches. Someone brought Lexi a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Lexi thought: This must be the “good cop” room. Perfect. The clock on the wall said a quarter after eight.
She had thirty minutes.
“Talk to me about Carl Kolepp.”
Lexi talked, slowly. It was important that she sound relaxed on the tape. But at the same time, she had to measure every word. I can’t afford to incriminate myself. I have to tread carefully. She told Carey about her first meeting with Carl. Her respect for him as a trader. She talked about Kruger-Brent. “It’s important you understand a little bit about the company history, Lieutenant. What happened to our stock price was not simple cause and effect. It was not one single event but a complex web of events.”
John Carey nodded. “Go on.”
Twenty minutes…Keep him talking…
Twelve minutes.
John Carey didn’t understand half of what Lexi was saying. Indices and margin calls and hedges, it was all Greek to him. But it didn’t matter. The point was she was talking. And it was all on tape.
Hawaii. That’d be a good place to retire. Maybe a time-share on Kaanapali Beach?
Lexi checked the clock. Seven minutes. Frowning, she rested a hand on her belly.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes. I…” Lexi clutched her stomach again. “Would you mind stopping the tape for a moment, Lieutenant?”
Carey got up and switched off the recorder. It was irritating having to stop when they were on a roll, but he didn’t want to alienate Lexi, not when she was being so helpful.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Ms. Templeton?”
>
“I’m fine. Thank you.” Lexi smiled bravely. “I didn’t want this to go on record. But I actually just found out I’m pregnant again. The sickness…you know.”
“Oh. Sure.” Carey looked embarrassed. He wasn’t good with women’s problems. “Sorry. I didn’t know. Can I…is there anything I can do?”
“I’ll be fine. I could maybe use some fresh air.”
“Of course. You want to use the ladies’ room first?”
Lexi nodded gratefully. “Thanks.”
“Follow me.”
Carey led her down the hall to the restrooms. Normally suspects would be escorted to the toilets by a female officer, but he didn’t see the need in this case. This is Lexi Templeton. She’s hardly likely to try to shimmy out of the window like a common criminal.
Sure enough, five minutes later, Lexi emerged into the corridor. She looked deathly pale.
“I know you want to get back to the interview, Lieutenant. But do you think I could step outside for a few minutes? I don’t feel at all well.”
“Of course. Take your time.”
He led her out into a small paved area at the back of the station. There was a metal table and a couple of chairs, both littered with cigarette butts. A lone ceramic planter stood forlornly in the corner, containing something very, very dead.
Lieutenant Carey was babbling. “Not the most beautiful yard, I’m afraid. None of my guys are what you might call green-thumbed…if you know what I mean…anyway. I’ll be in room three when you’re ready.”
“Thanks. I won’t be long.”
Lexi waited for the door to close. Grabbing one of the chairs, she dragged it over to the back of the garden. At first glance, the wall looked relatively low. But when Lexi stood on top of the chair, she realized that there was a good three feet between her outstretched fingertips and freedom. She’d have to jump for it.
Bending her knees, arms stretched upward, she leaped as high as she could. The chair slipped from beneath her feet, clattering loudly onto the concrete. Panicking, Lexi looked behind her at the station door.
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