“Oh? Who framed you?”
“Tyler Stanford.”
“Judge Tyler Stanford?”
“That’s right.”
“Why would he want to do that?”
“For money.”
“Do you have money?”
“No. I mean, yes…that is…I could have had it. He promised me a million dollars, and a sable coat, and jewelry.”
“Why would Judge Stanford promise you that?”
“Let me start at the beginning. I’m not really Julia Stanford. My name is Margo Posner.”
“When you came in here, you insisted you were Julia Stanford.”
“Forget that. I’m really not. Look…here’s what happened. Judge Stanford hired me to pose as his sister.”
“Why did he do that?”
“So I could get a share of the Stanford estate and turn it over to him.”
“And for doing that he promised you a million dollars, a sable coat, and some jewelry?”
“You don’t believe me, do you? Well, I can prove it. He took me to Rose Hill. That’s where the Stanford family lives in Boston. I can describe the house to you, and I can tell you all about the family.”
“You’re aware that these are very serious charges you’re making?”
“You bet I am. But I suppose you won’t do anything about it because he happens to be a judge.”
“You’re quite wrong. I assure you that your charges will be very thoroughly investigated.”
“Good! I want the bastard locked away the same way he has me locked away. I want out of here!”
“You understand that besides my examination, two of my colleagues also will have to evaluate your mental state?”
“Let them. I’m as sane as you are.”
“Dr. Gifford will be in this afternoon, and then we’ll decide how we’re going to proceed.”
“The sooner, the better. I can’t stand this damned place!”
When the matron brought Margo her lunch, the matron said, “I just talked to Dr. Gifford. He’ll be here in an hour.”
“Thank you.” Margo was ready for him. She was ready for all of them. She was going to tell them everything she knew, from the very beginning. And when I’m through, Margo thought, they’re going to lock him up and let me go. The thought filled her with satisfaction. I’ll be free! And then Margo thought, Free to do what? I’ll be out on the streets again. Maybe they’ll even revoke my parole and put me back in the joint!
She threw her lunch tray against the wall. Damn them! They can’t do this to me! Yesterday I was worth a million dollars, and today…Wait! Wait! An idea flashed through Margo’s mind that was so exciting that it sent a chill through her. Holy God! What am I doing? I’ve already proved that I’m Julia Stanford. I have witnesses. The whole family heard Frank Timmons say that my fingerprints showed that I was Julia Stanford. Why the hell would I ever want to be Margo Posner when I can be Julia Stanford? No wonder they have me locked up in here. I must have been out of my mind! She rang the bell for the matron.
When the matron came in, Margo said excitedly, “I want to see the doctor right away!”
“I know. You have an appointment with him in—”
“Now. Right now!”
The matron took one look at Margo’s expression and said, “Calm down. I’ll get him.”
Ten minutes later, Dr. Franz Gifford walked into Margo’s room.
“You asked to see me?”
“Yes.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid I’ve been playing a little game, Doctor.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s very embarrassing. You see, the truth is that I was very upset with my brother, Tyler, and I wanted to punish him. But I realize now that that was wrong. I’m not upset anymore, and I want to go home to Rose Hill.”
“I read the transcript of your interview this morning. You said that your name was Margo Posner and that you were framed…”
Margo laughed. “That was naughty of me. I just said that to upset Tyler. No. I’m Julia Stanford.”
He looked at her. “Can you prove that?”
This was the moment Margo had been waiting for. “Oh, yes!” she said triumphantly. “Tyler proved it himself. He hired a private detective named Frank Timmons, who matched my fingerprints with prints I had made for a driver’s license when I was younger. They’re the same. There’s no question about it.”
“Detective Frank Timmons, you say?”
“That’s right. He does work for the district attorney’s office here in Chicago.”
He studied her a moment. “Now, you’re certain of this? You’re not Margo Posner—you’re Julia Stanford?”
“Absolutely.”
“And this private detective, Frank Timmons, can verify that?”
She smiled. “He already has. All you have to do is call the district attorney’s office and get hold of him.”
Dr. Gifford nodded. “All right. I’ll do that.”
At ten o’clock the following morning, Dr. Gifford, accompanied by the matron, returned to Margo’s room.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, Doctor.” She looked at him eagerly. “Did you talk to Frank Timmons?”
“Yes. I want to be sure that I understand this. Your story about Judge Stanford’s involving you in some kind of conspiracy was false?”
“Completely. I said that because I wanted to punish my brother. But everything is all right now. I’m ready to go home.”
“Frank Timmons can prove that you’re Julia Stanford?”
“Absolutely.”
Dr. Gifford turned to the matron and nodded. She signaled to someone. A tall, lean black man walked into the room.
He looked at Margo and said, “I’m Frank Timmons. Can I help you?”
He was a complete stranger.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The fashion show was going well. The models moved gracefully along the runway, and each new design received enthusiastic applause. The ballroom was packed. Every seat was occupied, and there were standees in the rear.
Backstage there was a stir, and Kendall turned to see what was happening. Two uniformed policemen were making their way toward her.
Kendall’s heart began to race.
One of the policemen said, “Are you Kendall Stanford Renaud?”
“Yes.”
“I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Martha Ryan.”
“No!” she screamed. “I didn’t mean to do it! It was an accident! Please! Please! Please…!”
She woke up in a panic, her body trembling.
It was a recurring nightmare. I can’t go on like this, Kendall thought. I can’t! I have to do something.
She wanted desperately to talk to Marc. He had reluctantly returned to New York. “I have a job to do, darling. They won’t let me take any more time off.”
“I understand, Marc. I’ll be back there in a few days. I have to get a show ready.”
Kendall was leaving for New York that afternoon, but before she went, there was something she felt she had to do. The conversation with Woody had been very disturbing. He’s blaming his problems on Peggy.
Kendall found Peggy on the veranda.
“Good morning,” Kendall said.
“Good morning.”
Kendall took a seat opposite her. “I have to talk to you.”
“Yes?”
It was awkward. “I had a talk with Woody. He’s in bad shape. He…he thinks that you’re the one who’s been supplying him with heroin.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause. “Well, it’s true.”
Kendall stared at her in disbelief. “What? I…I don’t understand. You told me you were trying to get him off drugs. Why would you want to keep him addicted?”
“You really don’t understand, do you?” Her tone was bitter. “You live in your own little goddamned world. Well, let me tell you something, Miss Famous Designer! I was a wai
tress when Woody got me pregnant. I never expected Wood-row Stanford to marry me. And do you know why he did? So he could feel he was better than his father. Well, Woody married me, all right. And everybody treated me like dirt. When my brother, Hoop, came down for the wedding, they acted like he was some kind of trash.”
“Peggy…”
“To tell you the truth, I was dumbfounded when your brother said he wanted to marry me. I didn’t even know if it was his baby. I could have been a good wife to Woody, but no one even gave me a chance. To them I was still a waitress. I didn’t lose the baby, I had an abortion. I thought maybe Woody would divorce me, but he didn’t. I was his token symbol of how democratic he was. Well, let me tell you something, lady. I don’t need that. I’m as good as you or anyone else.”
Each word was a blow. “Did you ever love Woody?”
Peggy shrugged. “He was good-looking and fun, but then he had that bad fall during the polo game, and everything changed. The hospital gave him drugs, and when he got out, they expected him to stop taking them. One night, he was in pain, and I said, ‘I have a little treat for you.’ And after that, whenever he was in pain, I gave him his little treat. Pretty soon he needed it, whether he was in pain or not. My brother is a pusher, and I was able to get all the heroin I needed. I made Woody beg me for it. And sometimes I’d tell him I was out of it just to watch him sweat and cry—oh, how Mr. Woodrow Stanford needed me! He wasn’t so high and mighty then! I goaded him into hitting me, and then he’d feel terrible about what he had done, and he’d come crawling back to me with gifts. You see, when Woody is off dope, I’m nothing. When he’s on it, I’m the one who has the power. He may be a Stanford, and maybe I was only a waitress, but I control him.”
Kendall was staring at her in horror.
“Your brother’s tried to quit, all right. When it got real bad, his friends would get him into a detox center, and I’d go visit him and watch the great Stanford suffer the agonies of hell. And each time he came out, I’d be waiting for him with my little treat. It was payback time.”
Kendall was finding it hard to breathe. “You’re a monster,” she said slowly. “I want you to leave.”
“You bet! I can’t wait to get out of this place.” She grinned. “Of course, I’m not leaving for nothing. How much of a settlement will I get?”
“Whatever it is,” Kendall said, “it will be too much. Now get out of here.”
“Right.” Then she added with an affected tone, “I’ll have my lawyer call your lawyer.”
“She’s really leaving me?
“Yes.”
“That means…”
“I know what it means, Woody. Can you handle it?”
He looked at his sister and smiled. “I think so. Yes. I think I can.”
“I’m sure of it.”
He took a deep breath. “Thanks, Kendall. I would never have had the courage to get rid of her.”
She smiled. “What are sisters for?”
That afternoon, Kendall left for New York. The fashion showing would be in one week.
Clothing is the single biggest business in New York. A successful fashion designer can have an effect on the economy all around the world. A designer’s whim has a far-flung impact on everyone from cotton pickers in India to Scottish weavers to silkworms in China and Japan. It has an effect on the wool industry and the silk industry. The Donna Kar-ans and Calvin Kleins and Ralph Laurens are a major economic influence, and Kendall had arrived in that category. It was rumored that she was about to be named the Women’s Wear Designer of the Year by the Council of Fashion Designers of America, the most prestigious award a designer could receive.
Kendall Stanford Renaud led a busy life. In September, she looked at large assortments of fabrics, and in October, she selected the ones she wanted for her new designs. December and January were devoted to designing the new fashions, and in February, to refining them. In April, she was ready to show her fall collection.
Kendall Stanford Designs was located at 550 Seventh Avenue, sharing the building with Bill Blass and Oscar de la Renta. Her next showing was going to be at the Bryant Park tent, which could seat up to a thousand people.
When Kendall arrived at her office, Nadine said, “I’ve got good news. The showing is completely booked!”
“Thank you,” Kendall said absently. Her mind was on other things.
“By the way, there’s a letter marked URGENT for you on your desk. It was just delivered by messenger.”
The words sent a jolt through Kendall’s body. She walked over to her desk and looked at the envelope. The return address was Wild Animal Protection Association, 3000 Park Avenue, New York, New York. She stared at it for a long time. There was no 3000 Park Avenue.
Kendall opened the letter with trembling fingers.
Dear Mrs. Renaud,
My Swiss banker informs me that he has not yet received the million dollars that my association requested. In view of your delinquency, I must inform you that our needs have been increased to 5 million dollars. If this payment is made, I promise we will not bother you again. You have fifteen days to deposit the money in our account. If you fail to do so, I regret that we shall have to communicate with the appropriate authorities.
It was unsigned.
Kendall stood there in a panic, reading it over and over, again and again. Five million dollars! It’s impossible, she thought. I can never raise that kind of money that quickly. What a fool I was!
When Marc came home that night, Kendall showed him the letter.
“Five million dollars!” he exploded. “That’s ridiculous! Who do they think you are?”
“They know who I am,” Kendall said. “That’s the problem. I’ve got to get hold of some money quickly. But how?”
“I don’t know…I suppose a bank would loan you money against your inheritance, but I don’t like the idea of…”
“Marc, it’s my life I’m talking about. Our lives. I’m going to see about getting that loan.”
George Meriwether was the vice president in charge of the New York Union Bank. He was in his forties and had worked his way up from a junior teller. He was an ambitious man. One day I’ll be on the board of directors, he thought, and after that…who knows? His thoughts were interrupted by his secretary.
“Miss Kendall Stanford is here to see you.”
He felt a small frisson of pleasure. She had been a good customer as a successful designer, but now she was one of the wealthiest women in the world. He had tried for several years to get Harry Stanford’s account, without success. And now…
“Show her in,” Meriwether told his secretary.
When Kendall walked into his office, Meriwether rose and greeted her with a smile and a warm handshake.
“I’m so pleased to see you,” he said. “Do sit down. Some coffee or something stronger?”
“No, thanks,” Kendall said.
“I want to offer my condolences on the death of your father.” His voice was suitably grave.
“Thank you.”
“What can I do for you?” He knew what she was going to say. She was going to turn her billions over to him to invest…
“I want to borrow some money.”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I need five million dollars.”
He thought rapidly. According to the newspapers, her share of the estate should be more than a billion dollars. Even with taxes…He smiled. “Well, I don’t think there will be any problem. You’ve always been one of our favorite customers, you know. What security would you like to put up?”
“I’m an heir in my father’s will.”
He nodded. “Yes. I read that.”
“I’d like to borrow the money against my share of the estate.”
“I see. Has your father’s will been probated yet?”
“No, but it will be soon.”
“That’s fine.” He leaned forward. “Of course, we’d have to see a copy of the will.”
“Yes,” Ke
ndall said eagerly. “I can arrange that.”
“And we would have to know the exact amount of your share of the inheritance.”
“I don’t know the exact amount,” Kendall said.
“Well, the banking laws are quite strict, you know. Probates can take some time. Why don’t you come back after the probate, and I’ll be happy to…”
“I need the money now,” Kendall said desperately. She wanted to scream.
“Oh, dear. Naturally, we want to do everything we can to accommodate you.” He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “But unfortunately, our hands are tied until—”
Kendall rose to her feet. “Thank you.”
“As soon as…”
She was gone.
When Kendall returned to the office, Nadine said excitedly, “I have to talk to you.”
She was in no mood to hear Nadine’s problems.
“What is it?” Kendall asked.
“My husband called me a few minutes ago. His company is transferring him to Paris. So, I’ll be leaving.”
“You’re go…going to Paris?”
Nadine beamed. “Yes! Isn’t that wonderful? I’ll be sorry to leave you. But don’t worry. I’ll stay in touch.”
So it was Nadine. But there’s no way to prove it. First the mink coat and now Paris. With five million dollars, she can afford to live anywhere in the world. How do I handle this? If I tell her that I know, she’ll deny it. Maybe she’ll demand more. Marc will know what to do.
“Nadine…”
One of Kendall’s assistants came in. “Kendall! I have to talk to you about the bridge collection. I don’t think we have enough designs for—”
Kendall could bear no more. “Excuse me. I don’t feel well. I’m going home.”
Her assistant looked at her in amazement. “But we’re in the middle of…!”
“I’m sorry…”
And Kendall was gone.
When Kendall walked into her apartment, it was empty. Marc was working late. She looked around at all the beautiful things in the room, and thought, They’ll never stop until they take everything. They’re going to bleed me dry. Marc was right. I should have gone to the police that night. Now I’m a criminal. I’ve got to confess. Now, while I have the courage. She sat there, thinking about what this was going to do to her, to Marc, and to her family. There would be lurid headlines, and a trial, and probably prison. It would be the end of her career. But I can’t go on like this, Kendall thought. I’ll go crazy.
Morning, Noon & Night Page 21