Triple Threat

by Jan Coffey

  Ray stood up and shook Nate’s hand. “Speak of the devil. Ellie was just saying she hoped you’d be a no-show tonight.”

  “Did she, now?” Nate smiled at Ellie as she shook her head from side to side. “Maybe there’s enough time for me to change her mind.”

  He leaned down and kissed her slowly and thoroughly. By the time he pulled back, every inch of her body was tingling.

  “So what time is this affair?”

  Ray answered. “Seven. Plenty of time to do fifty or sixty laps to burn off all that extra energy you kids obviously have. We could have cocktails at six and leave here at forty-five minutes past. Fifteen minutes should be plenty of time to get there.”

  Nate pulled Ellie to her feet. She gathered up her key, cell phone and the newspapers.

  “We’ll see you at the preview at seven,” he said cheerfully to Ray. Putting a hand on Ellie’s waist, Nate strolled with her toward the hotel doors.

  A family of four and a half shared the elevator with them. When Ellie and Nate entered, the boy and girl—who both looked to be about six—were wrestling to see who would press the button for their floor. In the end, the twins pressed them all, and as their father tried to quietly control the pair of wild things, the elevator door opened and closed at each floor. The woman’s maternity dress was stretched to the max, but she looked quite happy and relaxed in the midst of the chaos.

  Nate stood behind Ellie and placed his hand over her flat stomach. Her face turned upward to his, and she smiled. At that moment, Nate knew he’d never wanted anything in life more than this woman.

  As luck would have it, the family was staying on the same floor, two doors down from them. Ellie handed him the key card, and as he started to swipe it, she put her hand over his. “Chris?”

  “He’s doing okay.”

  She smiled and nodded. He opened the door, and Ellie went in ahead of him. She dropped the newspapers and her phone on the nearest table and then turned to him.

  “The place is beautiful. You have to see the view.”

  Nate locked the door and leaned against it. He tossed the key on the same table. “I’m seeing it now.”

  She walked toward him, and then his mouth was fused with hers, his hands molding her body against his. It was madness, this urgent need in both of them. It felt like a first time. Their hunger for each other should have been satiated after their weekend. But it had only become more intense.

  “God, I missed you,” he said hoarsely.

  Ellie’s mouth, soft, desiring, invited him in. She tugged his shirt free of his pants. Her hands swept over his back, his belly.

  “I was going crazy waiting for you.” Her fingers slid downward. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me, Murtaugh. But I was lost without you.”

  His lips brushed over her face and down to the soft lines of her throat. “Where’s the bed?” he asked.

  She pointed him toward the stairs, and they somehow managed to climb to the next floor without any mishaps. In the bedroom, all the windows were open. The sheer curtains danced to the rhythmic whispers of the ocean breeze. Nate stood Ellie next to the bed and peeled the silky sundress from her body.

  “I was stopped twice for speeding today.”

  The white bathing suit was the only thing that separated his hands and mouth from her body.

  “Did they give you a ticket?” She pulled off his shirt, her lips caressing his chest and neck.

  “Not a chance.”

  He lowered the straps of her bathing suit and it slid down her legs. Ellie unzipped his pants and helped him as he shed the rest of his clothes.

  “They must have been intimidated by your…by your badge.”

  Nate’s lips twitched. They fell onto the bed, and their naked bodies entwined. “No. But they were impressed by my story.”

  Gathering her hands on top of her head, he pressed his body against hers. A moment later, their bodies joined, and Ellie’s dark eyes clouded with passion.

  “What was your story?” she whispered huskily.

  “I told them I was impatient to get here…”

  “That’s no story.”

  “Because I had to tell someone that I love her.”

  The preview was not held at some prestigious Bellevue Avenue or Ocean Drive address. The sprawling French château-style home by the country club, however, with its cone-topped towers and rolling lawns, expressed elegance of a more private nature. The location suited the occasion perfectly.

  This was far from a social gathering. No food or drinks were served, and there was almost no interaction between the competing parties. Nate and Ellie were the last of the invitees to arrive. In all, it appeared that there were about a dozen and a half guests, three servants and Robert Philips in attendance. Philips, a fiftyish gray-haired, pleasant-faced man whose British accent was quite familiar to Ellie, introduced himself to everyone in the library, making it clear that he was not the owner of the artifact, but only serving as the agent and auctioneer for the owner. He went on to explain in detail the rules of the sale.

  “The flag is presently in a protective frame in the dining room. I shall personally escort each one of you and your agent, if you have one present, to inspect the artifact.” Philips glanced about the room. “In the dining room, you are welcome to take as much time as is reasonable to study the item. I’ll be more than happy to answer any questions you might have. Afterward, one of the attendants will escort you out. I ask that you return to your hotel and wait there for further instructions from me.”

  “How long do you expect us to wait, for Chris-sakes?” one of the guests asked irritably.

  “I’m afraid that all depends on how much time the other interested parties here take. In the spirit of fairness, we’ve arranged it so you will be taken to the dining room in the same order that you arrived here.”

  “That means you and I will be last,” Ellie whispered to Nate.

  “Maybe Philips will be worn out by the time we go in and just give us the flag.”

  “Forever hopeful.”

  “That optimism has already paid off for me, hasn’t it?”

  Ellie didn’t miss his meaningful look. She herself was still suspended halfway between reality and dream. Nate’s declaration of love hung like some ethereal presence before her. She just wasn’t sure if what he’d told her was the truth. After all, they’d been joking about his “story” for the police officers. Then again, she didn’t know if he’d even really been pulled over. She was too afraid to ask. She was too afraid to put her heart out there and have it stepped on.

  The fact that their lovemaking had stretched into the evening had curtailed her opportunity to talk to Nate about what was happening between them. Not that Ellie was a very good communicator when it came to sensitive matters like that, anyway. It had only taken her eighteen years to start a positive dialogue with her father.

  The preview began promptly with Philips ushering an Asian-American gentleman and a colleague from the room. As a group, those left in the library glanced at their watches. Ellie checked the time on the large grandfather clock standing between two long windows.

  “Did you talk to Wilcox? Ray said his client was bringing someone in.”

  With a hand on the small of her back, Nate ushered Ellie toward the French doors overlooking some meticulously manicured rose gardens.

  “Yeah. Unfortunately, with everything that he already has on his plate for Sunday, there’s no way he or anybody on his payroll can get out here. He said he feels confident that this is the real McCoy, though. Apparently, word of the flag is out and the academic types he’s connected with have their boxers in a knot about it. Bottom line is he thinks with such a buzz going and all this money gathered here, we should go for it.”

  “I wish I could be so trusting.”

  “You don’t trust this Philips?”

  “I can’t help myself. Don’t forget that I was raised by thieves and crooks.” She brushed a speck of lint off Nate’s jacket collar. “Kathlee
n Rivers, though, is taking a more conservative approach.” She told him what Ray had said about the University of Pennsylvania professor coming in to look at the flag.

  “Well, now we know who put the word out to the mortarboard circuit.” He gathered her closer to his side. “And speak of the devil.”

  She turned and watched the two people who were weaving their way toward them. Kathleen Rivers appeared agitated. Ellie wasn’t sure if the possessiveness that Nate showed whenever Ray was near was for her sake or his own. But she loved it, anyway.

  “Somewhat uncivilized, I’d say, that this crowd couldn’t even serve drinks,” she said, looking over her shoulder.

  “When are you going in?” Ellie asked Ray.

  “A couple of groups before yours.”

  “What do you think of the competition?” Nate asked the older man.

  “What competition? The only two who have a chance at it are right here.” He looked at Nate, then patted his client’s hand gently. He turned to Ellie next. “It’s between you and me, babycakes. Fist to fist. Bare knuckles.”

  Ellie gave a small nod, accepting the challenge. She wasn’t cowed. What Ray didn’t know about Nate was that there was practically no limit on how much he was authorized to pay for the flag. On the other hand, Ellie had been able to gather through her Augusta Biddle connections that Kathleen Rivers was in the middle of a discreet and yet expensive divorce—her third. The way the rumors went, a settlement was nearly finalized and a very large sum would be transferred from Kathleen to her previously penniless artist husband with the signing of the final divorce papers. To Ellie’s way of thinking, this had to create a ceiling to Rivers’s available funds.

  “I need some fresh air.” Mrs. Rivers took Ray’s arm. “Show me the gardens.”

  She was obviously accustomed to having her way. Ellie and Nate watched them walk outside onto the terrace and down the steps into the gardens. They made a very striking pair.

  “If Ray doesn’t watch out, he might end up being a prime candidate for slot number four.”

  “A fourth marriage?” Nate asked.

  Ellie nodded and smiled. “And Ray would jump at the opportunity. He’ll do anything for her kind of money.”

  Everyone’s gaze was drawn to the door as Philips returned to the room and left a moment later with the second interested party. There was no way to tell how the first potential buyer had responded to seeing the flag.

  Nate’s fingers pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. She turned to him.

  “I have a question for you,” he said in a low voice. “I was wondering what made you decide to go to the Fort Ticonderoga Museum. The Friday that the flag was destroyed.”

  She looked up, surprised. His expression was unreadable. “I told you before. I was meeting with John Dubin, and he was taking me to a—”

  “No, not that. I mean why that date and not all the other times that you might have gone up there?”

  Ellie didn’t know where he was going with this, but she trusted him to have a good reason. “Ray called me. He’d read about the Schuyler flag being handed over to the Department of the Interior brass that day for the Spirit of America thing, so he thought since I was up there, I should go see it.”

  She watched Nate look at the faces of the people around the room. “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. I was just curious.”

  “Come on,” she prodded gently. “You can do better than that.”

  He looked around again. Everyone appeared preoccupied within their own individual groups. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Do you think the fact that I was up there was orchestrated?” Ellie lowered her voice. “Is Ray a suspect?”

  “At this point, everyone is a suspect.” He took her hand. His eyes were filled with tenderness when they met hers. “No matter how this whole thing turns out, meeting you has been by far the best part of this assignment. So if Ray ends up being one of the guilty parties, I suppose I’ll just have to let him live.”

  Twenty-Six

  Thursday, July 1

  Kathleen Rivers asked her accountant to stay on the line until the wait staff finished arranging the breakfast on the table beside the window. She tipped the two young men and waited for them to leave before continuing.

  “I’m back.” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Where were we?”

  “You wanted to transfer another thirty million dollars to your antiques account before 10:00 a.m. tomorrow morning,” the man said wearily from the other end.

  “Now that I think of it, make it an additional forty. Yes, I want a total of a hundred million in that account.”

  No negotiations. Kathleen was not about to give her long-time financial adviser a chance to talk her out of it, so she immediately changed the topic to a private yacht that was moored at Goat Island and how she suspected the owners might be a friend of a friend. A knock on the door gave her a reason to cut the conversation short, though, and she hung up.

  “Thank you for joining me here. You’re absolutely precious, Ray.” She brushed her cheek against his and held the door open for him to come in.

  Kathleen assessed him from behind with the eye of a connoisseur. For a man his age, he was quite fit. Still had his hair. Good shoulders. Trim waist. And a very nice butt, which was a requirement for her with regard to men. Kathleen knew from experience that you can’t drive a spike with a tack hammer.

  “Breakfast.” He glanced at the large spread of food. “How did you know I was starving?”

  “You are a dear and a sweet liar.” She tightened the belt of her robe and led the way to the food. “I know you’re an early riser. And I also know that you already had your breakfast around seven downstairs.”

  He glanced at his watch. “It’s ten-thirty. I’m ready for the next course.”

  “That’s what I was hoping.” With a flourish, she removed the covers from the eggs, the waffles, the fruits, and tipped the basket of pastries for his inspection. “There’s tea and coffee and orange juice. Make a plate for yourself and come and join me on the sofa. We have some work ahead of us this morning.”

  Kathleen took her own plate and a napkin to the sofa and settled herself with her legs tucked beneath her. “What time is the appraisal being done today?”

  “I was hoping it would be done this morning. But I still haven’t seen your professor friend.” Ray made himself a cup of tea. “When I spoke to him last night, he mentioned that he was planning to leave very early and drive up. But traffic is always heavy around a long weekend like this and—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She popped a piece of melon in her mouth and waved her fork at him. “If he gets here, he gets here. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t.”

  Ray started fixing a plate.

  “Actually, after seeing that flag last night,” she continued, “I don’t think I need the opinion of any expert to tell me if that’s the real thing or not.”

  “Oh?” he asked, coming and joining her on the sofa as she slid her plate onto the coffee table.

  “Do you ever get that feeling in your gut that you have to have something?”

  He put his plate on the coffee table, as well. “Occasionally…and if the price is right.”

  She sipped her coffee and shook her head. “No, no, no. I’m talking about the feeling that some antiques communicate to someone sensitive enough to feel it. It’s an experience like no other. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  “Yes, I do. There’s an energy source that accompanies some artifacts. I’ve heard of people who have a gift for experiencing it.”

  “I’m one of those people, Ray.” She put her cup down.

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “I remember the first time it happened to me. I was at an auction in Boston. I held in my hands a prayer book that Abigail Adams had held in her hands two hundred years ago, and I felt her spirit rush into me…just rush into me. In that instant, I knew her thoughts, her emotions. I saw her life
in a moment. I became her.”

  “That must have been quite an experience.”

  “Yes, it was,” she said fervently. “And that wasn’t the only time. The same thing happened to me with a needlework sampler that Martha Washington did as a child. It was like electricity in my veins. I don’t know how to explain it. When I touched that material, I could feel her in me. I could see her past, her future. I saw her life at Mount Vernon. She was alone quite a lot. Did you know that? She had her companions, of course, but she was alone. I felt that pain in her. In me.”

  She paused as her vision blurred because of tears. She dabbed at them with the starched napkin. In a few seconds she continued.

  “I have a rare gift within me. I connect with these women. I become the inheritor of their lives. Their protector.”

  “You must be a very sensitive woman, Kathleen.”

  “I felt it again last night.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “The moment I touched the glass that held the flag, my spirit flew from my body.”

  “I noticed that you seemed preoccupied.”

  “My spirit transcended the moment. I traveled in an instant across centuries. Then, suddenly, I was with her. Elizabeth Ross. She, too, was alone. I could hear her children playing in the street outside. She was sewing. She was doing what she could to keep her life together. This flag was on her lap. She looked at me as if she were looking in a mirror. And then she held it out to me….”

  Kathleen Rivers sat back against the cushions. Her outstretched hand dropped into her lap. Abruptly, she sat upright and turned to Ray. “That flag is mine. I must have it. It is my duty to have it. To protect it.”

  “Kathleen,” Ray started, his tea untouched in his hand.

  “I want to hear your strategy,” she said calmly. “I must own that flag, no matter what it costs.”

  The secluded stretch of grass on the cliffs overlooked the narrow passage where the Narragansett Bay met the Atlantic Ocean. Located just south of Fort Adams Park, the place was like a secret hideaway. Just the top of the empty Eisenhower House was visible up the hill from the bluffs. The stone walls of the fort stretched out to guard the harbor’s mouth to their right, and the water forty feet below them sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. Across the narrow passage, the rugged shoreline of Conanicut Island rose up, providing a lush green backdrop of pine for the occasional sailboat racing by. Together, Ellie and Nate lay on a blanket, the remains of their lunch on the grass.