“There isn’t one of them who wouldn’t die happy knowing he has two million dollars a year less taxes coming in,” was Alvirah’s answer. Still she admit ted to herself that she was a little concerned that somebody might try to put Willy down with one of those sweetly chilling remarks that could cut like a knife. Anyone tried that on her and she could give as good as she got, but Willy was too kind to zing anyone.
Five minutes later she realized she needn’t have worried. Willy was deep in conversation with the CEO of American Plumbing, explaining to him exactly why his biggest competitor’s highly touted new line of hydro-flush toilets were totally impractical for the average home. As Alvirah watched, the CEO’s expression became more and more delighted.
Tanned, tinted and handsomely dressed men and women were clustered in little groups. Alvirah chuckled over a remark she overheard one woman make to another: “Darling, you don’t know me well enough yet to dislike me.”
Then Min plucked at her sleeve. “Alvirah, I want you to meet Nadine Hayward.”
Alvirah turned swiftly. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this very pretty, sweet-faced, blue-eyed blonde with a peaches-and-cream complexion. She could pass for thirty and probably is in her early forties, Alvirah decided, but boy, she must be nervous. She looks as though she got dressed during a fire drill. Nadine Hayward was wearing a lime green shantung outfit with wide trousers and a waist-length jacket. It had obviously cost a fortune, but it looked all wrong. The middle button of the jacket wasn’t fastened. Black pumps were a discordant note against the silvery sheen of the outfit. Nadine’s dark blond hair was carelessly twisted into a chignon. A single strand of pearls was slipping under the neckline of the pale green shell.
As Alvirah watched, Nadine’s expression changed to sheer panic. “Oh, my God! My husband is coming,” she murmured.
“I thought you said he was attending a golf dinner at the club,” Min hissed.
“He was supposed to, but . . . ” Nadine’s voice trailed off, and she clutched Min’s arm.
Alvirah glanced at the path. A tall man was winding his way up toward the veranda. “When he heard Elyse was here he told me I wouldn’t see him till Saturday,” Nadine whispered through now bloodless lips.
Around them people were chatting and laughing. But Alvirah caught several sets of eyes appraising them. The tension emanating from Nadine Hayward was palpable.
“Smile,” she ordered firmly. “Button your jacket . . . Fix your pearls . . . That’s better.”
“But he doesn’t know the jewelry’s missing. He’ll wonder why I’m not wearing any of it,” Nadine moaned.
Cotter Hayward was at the stairs. Sotto voce, Alvirah urged, “For your son’s sake, you’ve got to fake this until I get a chance to help you out.”
At the mention of her son, an expression of pain came into Nadine’s eyes, then was gone. “I did a bit of acting way back,” she said. Now her smile seemed genuine, and a moment later when her husband came up the steps and touched her arm, her reaction of astonished pleasure was flawless.
I don’t like this guy, Alvirah thought as Hayward curtly acknowledged the introduction to her, then turned to his wife. “I imagine they’ll let me stay for dinner here,” he said. “I have to get back in time for the speeches, but I wanted to see you.”
“You are most welcome,” Min said. “Would you and Nadine prefer to have a small table to yourselves, or did you want to join her at her group table?”
“No groups, please,” Hayward said dismissively.
He dyes his hair, Alvirah thought. Good job, but I can tell. Nobody in his fifties is that blond. But Cotter Hayward was a handsome man, no getting around that.
It was Min and Helmut’s firm rule that their guests share tables of eight. The only exception was if a guest had a visitor and needed a chance to talk privately. In that case, never more than once a week, a table for two was available.
Tonight, Alvirah was delighted to see that Min had placed her and Willy at the group table with Elyse, the first Mrs. Cotter Hayward, who turned out to be a brittle, pencil-thin, auburn-haired fashion plate in her mid-forties. A handsome older couple from Chicago named Jennings; a stunning woman in her late thirties, Barra Snow, a model whom Alvirah instantly recognized from the Adrian Cosmetics ads; Michael Fields, an ex-congressman from New York; and Herbert Green, the plumbing CEO, were the other diners at table eight.
Alvirah managed to maneuver it so that she was only one seat away from Elyse Cotter. It quickly became obvious to her that Elyse was extremely vocal about both her former husband and her former friend. “Nadine doesn’t look like Sparkle Plenty tonight,” she observed caustically. “I wonder if that’s a matter of choice or if Cotter has started using his favorite line about keeping the jewelry in a bank vault because he worries about a robbery. If so, it means he’s met someone else and Nadine’s days are numbered.” Her smile was not pleasant. “I should know.”
“Nadine was wearing some of the Hayward jewelry the other night,” Barra Snow said. “You had dinner served in your cottage, Elyse.”
Alvirah perked up her ears and switched on the recording device in her sunburst pin. Had it been just an accident that Cotter Hayward’s first wife mentioned a robbery? She’d have to call Charley Evans, her editor at the Globe, and ask him to send her some background on all the Haywards from the newspaper morgue.
Let’s see, she thought as she selected a tiny loin lamb chop from the silver platter the waitress was holding, when I was here four years ago, Elyse was still married to Cotter, so Nadine hasn’t been in the picture too long. It’s obvious Elyse was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but I can tell from her voice that Nadine isn’t a graduate of Miss Porter’s. Wonder how she got so close to the Haywards in the first place?
“Honey, you’re still holding the serving fork,” Willy prodded.
* * *
At a table near the picture window overlooking the pool and gardens, Nadine and Cotter Hayward ate in almost total silence. When Cotter spoke it was usually to complain.
Then came the question Nadine dreaded. “How come you’re not wearing any decent jewelry? Every other woman in this place is showing off her trophies; surely yours must be some of the finest.”
Nadine managed to keep her voice even. “I didn’t think it was in the best taste to dangle them in front of Elyse. After all she was wearing them when she came here a few years ago.”
Her fingers damp with perspiration, she watched her husband’s reaction and inwardly collapsed with relief when he nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Now I’ve got to get back. Those after-dinner speeches will be starting.”
As he got up, he leaned over quickly and brushed her cheek with an impatient kiss. The way he would have kissed Elyse toward the end of their marriage, Nadine thought. Oh dear God, what am I going to do?
She watched him walk across the spacious room and then was astonished to see Elyse hurrying toward him. Even though Nadine could only see the back of his head, Cotter’s body language was obvious. He stopped abruptly, went rigid, and then after Elyse spoke to him, pushed her aside and hurried out.
Nadine was sure that Elyse had reminded him that the final divorce payment was owed to her next week. Three million dollars. Cotter was infuriated at the prospect of paying it. And I’m paying for it as well, Nadine thought. After what Elyse cost him, the prenuptial I signed will leave me penniless if he gets angry enough about the jewelry to divorce me . . .
* * *
Now what did Elyse have to say to her ex? Alvirah wondered, as she nibbled on a tiny cookie and tried to make the rainbow sherbet last. From where she was sitting she could see the expression of savage satisfaction on the divorcée’s face and the angry dark red flush that colored Cotter Hayward’s features.
“My, my,” Barra Snow murmured with a slight smile. “I didn’t know fireworks were on the menu.”
“Do you know the Hay wards well?” Alvirah asked casually.
“We
have mutual friends and occasionally are in the same place.”
Willy jumped up to hold Elyse Hayward’s chair as she returned to the table, a grim smile on her face. “Well, I made his day,” she said with obvious delight. “There’s nothing that drives Cotter crazier than parting with money.” She laughed. “His lawyers have been trying to negotiate a settlement. Instead of a final three-million-dollar payment next week, they’d like me to accept annual installments for the next twenty years. The answer I gave them is that I didn’t win a lottery, I divorced a rich man.”
That’s for our benefit, Alvirah thought. “It depends on the annual installment,” she murmured.
Herbert Green, the plumbing executive, chuckled. “I like your wife,” he told Willy.
“So do I.” Willy had just finished his sherbet. “That was a great dinner, but I have to say I’d like to top it off with a Big Mac.”
Barra laughed. “I’m glad you feel like that. My sister was awarded a McDonald franchise in her divorce. I wasn’t that lucky.”
“Neither will Nadine be when Cotter tires of her,” Elyse volunteered. “Here’s her settlement.” She touched her thumb to the tip of her forefinger to form a perfect circle. Her meaning was very clear. “Nadine’s a perfect example of why we should obey the ninth commandment.”
“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife,” Willy said.
“Or husband.” Elyse laughed. “Nadine’s problem is that she was unlucky enough to get mine.”
* * *
Nadine Hayward did not wait for the recital in the music room. Instead she slipped away from the dining room with the first people to leave and made her way to her cottage, which was one of the farthest from the main house.
It’s Wednesday night, she thought. Saturday morning Cotter will come for me. I’ll have to tell him about the robbery. He’ll want to know why I didn’t call the police immediately. Then I’ll have to tell him that Bobby didn’t pay the insurance premium to the company. And Bobby will be prosecuted.
I can’t let that happen.
If only I hadn’t come here four years ago and met Cotter.
It was the thought she had been trying to avoid.
As she turned off the main path to her cottage, Nadine was filled with self-loathing and regret that she had ever met Cotter. My one extravagance, she thought, coming here after Robert died, and I had to meet him.
Her first husband had been Robert Crandell, a distant cousin of Elyse’s, handsome and bright and witty and loving. And a gambler. She’d married him at twenty, divorced him when Bobby was ten. It was the only way to separate herself from his debts. But they’d remained friends. More than friends. I always loved him, she thought now.
He’d been killed nearly five years ago, driving too fast on a rain-slick highway, still a gambler, still untrustworthy. But he’d left an insurance policy that was enough to take care of Bobby’s college education, and it was the relief of discovering this fact, coupled with the emotional drain of his death, that impelled Nadine to treat herself to a week at Cypress Point Spa.
When she was still married to Robert, she’d occasionally met Cotter and Elyse at family events. By the time she met them again, at the spa, it was clear that they were barely speaking to each other. Three months later, Cotter phoned. “I’m in the process of a divorce,” he’d announced, “because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
Thoughtful. Charming. Oh, how Cotter could turn on the charm. “You’ve never had it easy, Nadine,” he said. “It’s time someone took care of you. I know what you went through with Robert. It’s a miracle he wasn’t murdered. Those bookies play rough when you welsh on debts. I bailed him out from time to time. I don’t think you knew that.”
He had never bailed Robert out, Nadine thought as she put the key in the door of her cottage. Cotter never bailed anyone out.
Before she could turn the key, the door opened and the frightened face of her twenty-two-year-old son stared down at her. Then Bobby threw his arms around her. “Mom, help me. What am I going to do?”
* * *
Alvirah and Willy lingered over decaf espresso with the other guests at their table, hoping to pick up more gossip, but to Alvirah’s disappointment Elyse dropped the subject of her ex-husband.
“Are you attending the recital, Mrs. Meehan?” Barra Snow asked.
“We’re still on New York time,” Alvirah said. After Elyse’s crack about the lottery, it was on the tip of her tongue to say that they were going to hit the sack, but she decided against it. “I think we’d better retire,” she finished.
At a demure pace, Alvirah led Willy through the dining room; as soon as they were outside, however, she quickened her step. “Let’s go,” she said. “I’m dying to talk to Nadine. From what I’m learning about Cotter Hayward’s attitude toward money, there’s no doubt that he won’t be talked out of reporting the theft to the insurance company.”
* * *
When they arrived at Nadine’s cottage, they were surprised to hear the murmur of voices through the open window. “I wonder if the husband came back,” Alvirah whispered, but at her knock the door was opened by a handsome young man who even in the half-light she could see was the image of Nadine.
Sitting opposite them on the pale blue and white sofas in the harmoniously decorated sitting room, Willy and Alvirah waited as Nadine told Bobby that the Meehans knew all about the theft and were there to help.
It was clear to Alvirah that Bobby was desperately worried, but even so she did not like it when he tried to justify his own chicanery. “Mom, I swear to you this is the first time I ever cashed a premium check,” he said, his voice shrill. “I’d made a bet. It was a sure thing.”
“ ‘A sure thing.’ ” Nadine’s voice broke into a near sob. “Your father’s words. I heard them for the first time when I was nineteen years old. I don’t want to hear them anymore.”
“Mom, I was going to reinstate the policy, I swear.”
“Wasn’t there a notice of termination sent?” Alvirah asked.
Bobby looked away. “I knew it was coming.”
“And destroyed it?” Alvirah persisted.
“Yes.”
“That’s also a criminal offense,” she said severely.
“Bobby,” Nadine cried, “I persuaded Cotter to switch the jewelry insurance to you because you’d gotten the job with Haskill. Then I persuaded him to let you live in the New York apartment.”
So like his father, she thought. The repentant face, the dejected slump of the shoulders.
It was as though Bobby knew what she was thinking. “Mom, I’m not like Dad, not that way. Any time I bet before, it was with my money.”
“Not always. I’ve covered some of your losses.”
“But never a lot. Mom, if you can talk Cotter into not prosecuting, I swear, never, never again. I don’t want to go to prison.”
Bobby buried his face in his hands.
Nadine put her arms around him. “Bobby,” she said. “Don’t you see? I’m helpless to stop him.”
Then she paused. “Or am I?”
* * *
An hour later, when Willy and Alvirah were settled in bed, Alvirah began to think aloud. “Nadine’s son, Bobby, is what I would call spineless and more than a little selfish. I mean, when you think about it, his mother persuaded Cotter Hayward to switch the insurance policy on the jewelry to him so he’d get the commission, then he gambles away the premium. And my feeling is that he’s more worried about the prospect of going to prison than he is about the fact that the fallout of all this might mean the end of Nadine’s marriage.”
“Uh-huh,” Willy agreed, his tone sleepy.
“Not that I think Cotter Hayward is any prize,” Alvirah continued. “He reminds me of Mr. Parker. You remember I cleaned for the Parkers on Wednesdays until they moved to Florida. I think she died. The nice ones always die, don’t they, and the mean old birds hang around forever. Anyhow—picky, picky, picky! That’s the way he was. And cheap
! One day Mr. Parker yelled at his poor wife for giving away an old suit of his. He had a closet full of clothes but couldn’t stand to let so much as an odd sock get away.”
Willy’s even breathing was his only comment.
“The only way to save Bobby Crandell from prison is to find the thief,” Alvirah mused aloud. “The thing is that the night of the robbery, Nadine locked the front door of the cottage, but since Bobby said he was able to get in through the sliding glass door of the sunroom tonight, it stands to reason that anyone else could have done the same thing. Nobody really worries about locks around here.”
And then a thought shot through her mind that made her gasp. How heavy a gambler was Bobby Crandell? He knew his mother had the jewelry with her. Nadine had told them that the combination she always set when she used a wall safe in a spa or hotel was the year of her birth, 1-9-5-3. Bobby probably knew that.
Alvirah pondered the notion that Bobby Crandell might have been in deep trouble because of gambling debts. Suppose his life had been threatened if he didn’t produce the money he owed? Suppose he owed very big money? Suppose he decided to steal the jewelry even though he had already stolen the premium money? Maybe he was desperate enough to hope that his mother could persuade Cotter Hayward not to file a claim for the missing jewelry, she thought.
Alvirah had another question to ask herself before she fell asleep. Why did Cotter Hayward suddenly decide to have dinner with Nadine tonight?
* * *
The call came at eleven o’clock, shortly after he had retired. Still wide awake, Cotter Hayward reached for the receiver and barked a greeting.
Hayward got out of bed and dressed in chinos and a sweater. Then, as an afterthought, he made a martini. I probably shouldn’t have one, he told himself sourly. But given the way his night had gone, he could certainly use it.
At quarter of twelve he left his condo on the grounds of the Pebble Beach Club and, walking in the shadows, made his way to the sixteenth hole. Standing in the wooded area off the green, he waited.
The Lottery Winner Page 16