by Judith Gould
Wyn took her hand and squeezed it. It was as if, she thought as she turned to look at him, he could sense her feelings.
"It'll be okay, Doc," he said, smiling.
"I hope so," she replied, a worried look on her face.
They walked on, arriving at the last stall, pausing to look in on the horse there, then turned and started back up the way they'd come. Suddenly, Valerie stopped dead in her tracks and jerked on Wyn's hand.
"Look!" she said in a near whisper.
"What?" he asked, turning to face her.
"Oh, my God, Wyn!" she exclaimed, leaning down to the floor to pick up a small object just outside one of the stalls.
Valerie held a gel capsule between two fingers. It was just like medication would come in, and inside she discovered a fine white powder.
"Can you think of a pill that any of the horses might be taking that looks like this?" she asked Wyn.
He shook his head. "No," he said. "I'd have to check with Santo, but I can't think of a thing." He looked at it closely. "Isn't it a lot smaller than most horse pills?" he asked.
"Exactly," she said. "And I can't think of anything that we'd use that resembles this. Let me go up to the gate and give this to Santo to give Tami. We can run it through toxicology, too. I bet it'll be the same thing that shows up in Demon's blood." "I'll go with you," he said. "You can wait here," she replied. He shook his head. "No, I want to keep you in my sight."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Teddy sat down on Tiffani's big bed, where she was spread out, her eyes teary, her expression troubled. Her long curly hair, the product of much untalented cutting, dyeing, bleaching, and styling—what color is it? he wondered—was fanned out around her head.
He took one of her hands in his and held it, looking down at the thin gold and silver junk rings she wore on every finger. The fuchsia polish on her fake nails was chipped, and the gold-tone and silver-tone bangle bracelets at her wrists were bent and scratched from wear.
Every time he'd made a move on her, she'd shaken her head from side to side and whined. "Not yet, Teddy," she'd say. "Not yet. We have to talk."
"So let's talk, babe," he'd said, but so far she'd hardly said a word.
He was quickly losing his patience with her. Shit, he thought, this is ridiculous. He'd already snorted a few lines of coke. It was time to get busy. He had to get her to start talking.
"I'm worried about you," he said. "Won't you tell me what's wrong?"
"Well," she began slowly, finally responding to his apparent concern, "there's something we need to talk about."
"Okay," he said, sliding an arm around her shoulder.
"Well," she said, looking down into her lap, then back up at him, "you told me that those pills you gave me wouldn't hurt anybody. Those pills you told me to give the horses."
Teddy was silent for a moment, wondering what further absurdity she would present him with now. "That's right," he said. "They wouldn't hurt anybody."
"Well," she said, "I was having second thoughts. That's why I asked you to come over. And then Santo called me at home, saying the whole place was in an uproar." She paused. "They're analyzing blood and one of the pills I dropped."
Teddy stared at her openmouthed. "You dropped a pill?" he said.
She nodded. "Yeah, but it wouldn't matter, Teddy," she replied, "because they're analyzing the blood anyway. Santo said there are millions of dollars in horses there, and they're calling in the police. He said I was in big trouble because I was the only person there."
"That's bullshit," Teddy snapped. "They can't prove you did a thing."
"I know that," she said. "I can tell them that I went out to get a sandwich for lunch, which I did, and anybody could have come in and done it." She looked at Teddy, a hard glint in her eyes. "Or ... I could tell them that you gave me the pills to give to the horses because you wanted to get even with your vet friend for going out with Mr. Conrad."
Teddy looked over at her and saw that look in her eyes, and he knew that she was telling the truth. She would do it, he thought. The bitch would implicate me just so she wouldn't go down alone, even after all I've done for her.
Then he had a sudden inspiration. Nobody's ever seen us together, he thought. Nobody has any idea that we even know each other. Unless . . .
"Tiff," he said calmly, "you didn't tell anybody else about the stable business, did you?"
She shook her head. "No, Teddy," she replied. "Do you think I'm crazy?"
He smiled. "Smart girl."
"But some of my girlfriends know I've been hanging out with you. I've told them all about you and me."
The smile faded from his face, and he looked crestfallen. Is she lying? he wondered. But then he realized that of course she wasn't lying. She'd probably been bragging to her friends all summer. Telling them about how she was screwing her rich landlord, Teddy de Mornay. Getting a rent reduction and free dope.
How the fuck do I clean up this mess? he asked himself. He made a decision. He'd tell her not to worry, that he'd fix everything and come back later as planned. After my meeting with Marguerite, he thought, I'll come over, ready to party. Maybe bring a little something extra special, make sure greedy Tiff gets her share and then some. She was my tenant, he'd tell the cops, but I have no idea why she'd poison any horses. Pretty girl, too. Damn shame about her overdosing like that. . .
It was going on seven o'clock, and Val and Wyn had agreed that they'd have dinner later, after their long vigil at the stables. The horses had largely calmed down, but a few were still spooked. Their agitation, of course, only served to disquiet those that had calmed down. It might be hours yet, depending on what they had in their systems, before they were all back to normal.
Val had called the police to report what had happened, and they had paid a brief call, looking around the stables and questioning both Val and Wyn. She had told them about Noah's almost certain poisoning, Hayden's death, and assured them she would let them know as soon as she had a report on the blood work and capsule. She'd reluctantly told them that the only person she knew who had a grudge against her was Teddy de Mornay.
Santo had given them Tiffani's name and address, and they were supposed to question her as well as Teddy. Finally, after the police had left, Val had agreed to go home and change and check on Elvis, then come back for dinner. Santo and the Reinhardts would be at Stonelair tonight, Wyn had told her, so if there was any problem, there would be help at least.
She'd finished taking a quick bath, made up her face, brushed her hair, and was rummaging through her closet, exasperated because she couldn't figure out what to wear. She stood back and looked at her closet, considering the possibilities that presented themselves and cursing herself for not taking the time to do more clothes shopping when she was in New York City.
Wyn had told her that tonight was going to be a special dinner, so she wanted to look special.
She began pushing hangers apart, quickly scanning what hung on them, then moving on. Then an old djellaba that she'd picked up on a trip to Tangier years ago jumped out at her. She'd forgotten all about it. She pulled it out of the closet and held it up.
Perfect, she thought with a smile. And Wyn will get a kick out of it. Wait till I tell him about bargaining for it in the Medina. Ankle length, it was made of a white gauzy fabric that was embroidered with real gold thread around the neck, on the long sleeves, the hem, and down the bodice. It unbuttoned practically to the waist with little frog closures of gold.
She slipped it on over her head, then buttoned the bottom three or four buttons, and turned in front of the mirror. Really perfect, she thought, delighting in the rediscovery of the Moroccan garment. It's summery and sexy and exotic and dressy, but casual, too.
Now, if she could find the little gold sandals that she'd worn with it, she'd be all set. She delved back into the closet, searching the floor, under piles of shoes of all kinds, and voila. There they were, needing a dusting off, but none the worse for wear.
She t
ook them into the kitchen and wiped them with a damp paper towel, then dried them with another one. She tried them on, and they still fit. Well, she thought, at least something's working out right today.
She looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. Just time enough, if she hurried. She checked to make sure Elvis had enough water and food, then grabbed her carryall and keys. She checked the back door to make certain it was locked, then headed for the front, Elvis following along behind her.
At the door, she leaned down and petted Elvis. "I'll be late, old boy," she said, "so you can have a nice nap." She looked into his eyes. "And I promise that you'll meet the new man in my life and all of his animals, too, very soon." She hugged him, then got up and left, making sure she'd locked the door behind her.
She fired up the Jeep and pulled out of her driveway, wondering what Wyn was up to. What's so special about tonight? she wondered. Was he having someone else over? Probably not, because he didn't see anyone else, at least not that she knew of. But he'd told her to dress up more than usual. Why? She couldn't think of a thing. Was it just a matter of the food? Maybe.
She sped down the road, eager to get to Stonelair. Excited to find out what Wyn would think was special.
Darkness had fallen, and the odd couple in the big car was speeding down the road, headed toward Stonelair. At the wheel was Santo, in Stonelair's Range Rover. When they arrived, should anybody be about, which was highly unlikely, they would think nothing of seeing him driving in alone. His passenger would simply slide to the floor until the car was safely parked in the garage at his cottage.
He'd hardly ever used the garage, usually walking over from the parking area at the stables, but tonight he'd even brought the remote for the garage door. Open sesame, he thought. Then close and conceal.
Sitting next to him in the front was Arielle. She was chain-smoking cigarillos, occasionally taking a sip from a little silver flask in her pocketbook. She had come dressed in her extraordinarily sexy way, perhaps adding a little extra pizzaz on Santo's account. The snakeskin micromini, the sheer blouse unbuttoned to the waist, thus exposing her perfect breasts, the stilettos. The effect of her outfit was not lost on him. It was as provocative now as it had been earlier in the day. He knew that Arielle was a shark, of course, but she was the sexiest shark he'd ever come across. Maybe they really would be a great team.
"We're just about there," he told her.
"So now I do my disappearing act, right?" Arielle said.
He nodded. "Slide all the way down onto the floor and keep your head down. We don't want the video cams to pick you up."
Arielle took a quick swig of vodka from her flask, then slid to the floor of the Range Rover. She tucked her head down but managed to take a couple of drags off her cigarillo before handing it to Santo to put out.
"It'll only be for a few minutes," he said, reaching over and stroking the top of her head. "Just don't get up until I give the clear."
"Don't worry," she said. "I'm fine."
The road leading to the estate appeared ahead, and Santo flipped the turn signal and began to brake. He made the turn, and the gates to Stonelair loomed in front of him. He pulled over to the security post and punched in the code. The video cams were like evil eyes tonight, but he didn't care. They couldn't pick up Arielle.
The gates opened, and he drove swiftly past them. "We're in," he said to Arielle, "but don't get up yet. Not until we're in my garage."
Arielle shifted on the floor. "Not soon enough," she complained. "This is really cramping my style." "I'll work all the knots out later," he said. "I bet you will," she replied, "and I can hardly wait."
Chapter Thirty
Teddy sped along the country road in his silver Jaguar, the cocaine still racing through his bloodstream. He didn't dread his talk with Marguerite. Not now. He was on a high and felt like he could conquer the world. What's a little chat with Marguerite? he thought. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He'd always been able to sweet-talk her, hadn't he?
Tonight would be no different. He and Marguerite were two of a kind. She'd always been crazy about him, so determined for him to be her son-in-law. Maybe, he thought, maybe I'll be a whole lot more to her than that. After all, she's still a damn good-looking woman, and I'm just her kind of man.
Yeah, he thought, turning onto the road that led up to her house, I bet I can sweet-talk her straight into bed and right out of trouble.
Marguerite sat at the head of the magnificently laid dinner table, with Jamie at the foot and Teddy to her right. The food was simple, but beautifully served and delicious. There was a fresh salad of mixed greens, poached salmon with a dill and lemon sauce, tiny new potatoes, and haricots vert. Teddy, however, had picked at his food, moving it around his plate, as if by doing so it would disappear, and he would seem to have eaten.
The coke had suppressed his appetite, and the surprising presence of Jamie had done nothing to stimulate it.
"I'm so glad you came by, Teddy dear," Marguerite said. "We do need to talk."
Teddy nodded.
Jamie looked over at Teddy. "We've asked that our money be returned to Dockering Wainwright, you know."
"Yes, I know," Teddy said, "and that's why I wanted to talk to Marguerite. I really think you're jumping the gun. Both of you. If only you'll give me a chance to—"
"You've had your chance," Jamie said.
"Yes, indeed," Marguerite added. She pointed a bejeweled finger at Teddy. "I want to know what's happened to my money."
"Marguerite, I can explain if—" Teddy began.
"You do that, Teddy," Jamie snapped. "Explain what's happened to Marguerite's money. And mine. And make it quick."
Teddy had forsaken any pretense of eating and put down his fork and knife. He sat in his chair uneasily, crashing from the cocaine high, his stomach churning, sweat beading his face and neck, his world crumbling down around him. He thought he might be sick.
"Tell us, Teddy," Jamie insisted. "Tell us this minute. If you can explain, then explain away. We're waiting."
Teddy feigned a smile, sickly though it was, and tried to rally. His world as he knew it depended on convincing these people that they would not only get their money back but make more. Greed was the key, he knew. "As you know, there have been some market fluctuations recently," he began, "especially in the high-tech sector—"
"Yes, yes," Jamie said angrily. "Every idiot who watches CNBC knows that."
"Well, because of these fluctuations," Teddy said, deciding to give them a grain of truth, hoping that would appease them, "I've had to move money from one account to another. You understand, just to cover temporary losses. And—"
"Where is our money!" Jamie thundered. "Yes," Marguerite chimed in, "quit this ridiculous prevaricating, Teddy. Tell us what we want to know."
Teddy glared at them both, angry now. He wasn't accustomed to being yelled at. Not by anyone. "I don't have to sit here and take this," he said between gritted teeth. "Who do you think you are—"
There was the rustle of movement behind him, and Teddy saw Marguerite and Jamie look in that direction. He turned, following their eyes, and saw Dockering Wainwright standing directly in back of him with policemen at his side.
"Teddy," Dock said, "I'm sorry to do this, but you might as well leave with these gentlemen peacefully. Save yourself any embarrassment in front of Marguerite and Jamie."
"What the hell are you talking about, Dock?"
"I think you know the answer to that," Dock said.
"We've had a long chat with Lydia Parsons, your secretary. Former secretary, excuse me. These gentlemen are here to arrest you."
"Arrest me?" Teddy shouted. "You're crazy. For what?" He jumped to his feet, china, silver, and crystal clattering as he knocked against the table. He started toward the door.
The policemen moved in quickly, each taking an arm and restraining him before he could leave the room. Teddy struggled in their grasp, but it was useless. The coke high that had made him feel omnipotent was gone, and in its pl
ace was a staggering powerlessness.
"You'll be charged with misappropriation of funds, young man," Dock said, "and I'm sorry to say you'll be charged with securities fraud and God alone knows what else." He cleared his throat, then said, "If you gentlemen don't mind, would you read him his rights outside so that Mrs. de la Rochelle doesn't have to witness such a scene?"
The police cuffed Teddy and began walking him out of the room. "You'll pay for this, Dock," Teddy said. "You too, Marguerite. All of you will pay."
When they were gone, Dock turned to Marguerite. "I'm happy to say that I think we've managed to save most if not all of your money, my dear." He looked at Jamie. "Yours, too, Jamie. Teddy didn't have it long enough to do any real damage."
Marguerite rose and strode over to the old man. She took one of his hands in hers. "Thank you, Dock," she said, "and forgive me for deserting you. I was very foolish."
"I think your daughter has pretty good instincts, Marguerite," he said. "You might do well to listen to her in the future."
They sat in a small conservatory surrounded by a veritable forest. Huge potted palms interspersed with ferns of several different kinds, orchids, many of which were in colorful bloom, gardenia bushes, camellias, lemon and orange trees—the variety and beauty was endless, Valerie thought. As if their perfume wasn't enough, a bitter orange incense burned in hidden corners, infusing the room with a heady and exotic aroma that she found irresistible.
Some of the glass in the conservatory windows was actually cut Bohemian crystal in blues and reds and whites, and overhead was a crystal chandelier lit with thirty-six burning tapers. The light was subdued but dazzled nevertheless, reflecting off the windows, the chandelier, and the table's Venetian glassware, silver, and exquisite china.