Lovers & Players (43 page)

I
rena fixed Max a mug of murky dark brown tea so strong he thought he might regurgitate the foul liquid on the spot. Then she indicated that he should sit, so he balanced gingerly on the one rickety chair.

Irena settled herself on the edge of her unmade bed, and proceeded to talk. Words came pouring out of her mouth, harsh words mixed with venom about her deceased daughter. ‘Paulina–she was always user,’ Irena spat. ‘Always wanted best. Daddy’s little favourite.’

‘Where
is
your husband?’ Max asked. Early on in their relationship, Mariska had informed him that both her parents had perished in a train wreck when she was an infant. Like everything else about Mariska, that had been a lie too.

‘Dead,’ Irena stated, clutching her own mug of tea. ‘Shot in Moscow thirty years ago. Not nice man. Paulina take after him.’

‘But she sent for you, brought you to America, didn’t she?’

‘Ha!’ Irena snorted. ‘To be her slave. Iron her clothes. Press them. Take them to the dry cleaner’s. Polish her shoes. Wash her dirty underwear. Keep her secrets. I am
slave.
She live in palace. Look where
I
sleep.’

Max nodded. Irena wasn’t wrong. ‘Tell me about the men,’ he said. ‘Was she seeing Vladimir while she was married to me?’

‘Vladimir,’ Irena said scornfully. ‘He nothing. He peasant. Paulina play with him like toy.’

‘Go on,’ Max encouraged.

‘Paulina loved herself. Then Alex. But Alex only for sex.’

‘Alex?’ Max questioned.

‘Boyfriend.’

‘Boyfriend
when?
’

‘When she need sex. Or money.’ A crafty pause. ‘Alex give her cash.’

Did that explain the cash he’d found stuffed into her box? That would be
some
generous boyfriend.

‘Who
is
Alex?’

‘Bad man,’ Irena said, her face darkening. ‘Gangster. Criminal. He carry gun.’

Jesus! Mariska certainly
had
led a double life.

‘What’s Alex’s surname?’ he asked, thinking that Alex might be listed in her phone book.

Irena shrugged. ‘Russian man,’ she said vaguely, as if that explained everything.

‘Was she seeing him when she was married to me?’

‘Maybe,’ Irena answered cautiously.

Max wondered if Alex had stabbed Mariska to death, not Vladimir. Was that possible?

No. Vladimir was guilty. He was sure of it.

And then Mariska’s words came back to haunt him. The night she’d called him to her apartment claiming Lulu was sick, the night he’d said, ‘She’s my daughter, isn’t she.’ He’d said it as a statement not a question. But Mariska had murmured a sly ‘Maybe,’ and now–in view of what Irena was telling him–there was a distinct possibility that Lulu might not be his child. She could be Vladimir’s or even Alex’s. He felt sick.

‘I give police nothing,’ Irena said, pursing her lips. ‘You
tell
them what I say,
I
deny.’ She stood up and snatched the mug out of his hand. ‘You no like tea?’ she said accusingly. ‘Not strong enough?’

‘It’s a little too strong.’

‘I
know
who murdered Paulina,’ she said, just like that.

A chill pervaded his body. ‘Who?’

Another crafty expression crossed her weatherbeaten face. ‘You have Paulina’s box? Her money?’

‘I just gave you—’

‘You want know who stabbed her,’ Irena said flatly, ‘come back, bring me box. It should be mine.’

‘What makes you think
I
have it?’

‘Someone took it from apartment. I think it you.’

‘And if it wasn’t me?’

‘Then our talk is finished.’

‘Hi, Grams,’ Amy said, arriving unannounced at her grandmother’s hotel apartment.

‘What are
you
doing here?’ Grandma Poppy asked, shushing her two dogs, who were running around in circles, barking.

‘I came to tell you we’re postponing the wedding.’

‘I heard,’ Grandma Poppy said, calming her yapping dogs with a commanding gesture. ‘Your mother phoned me. In view of the terrible event that has taken place, a postponement is the correct thing to do.’

‘Mom seems to think so,’ Amy said. ‘She’s livid because
my
name has been dragged into the newspapers.’

‘I’m sure she is.’

‘She wants me to break off my engagement, give Max back his ring, quit my job and leave the country,’ Amy continued, pulling up a chair.

‘Ah,’ Grandma Poppy sighed. ‘Nancy. Overreacting as usual.’ A pause. ‘And how do
you
feel about breaking your engagement to Max?’

‘Here’s the thing, Grams, I, uh, have another problem that’s even worse.’

‘What could possibly be worse than your overly dramatic mother trying to tell you what to do?’ Grandma Poppy inquired, tapping her elegant long fingers on the table beside her.

‘You’re so wise, Grams,’ Amy said. ‘That’s why I came here.’ She glanced at Hueng, hovering near the door.

Grandma Poppy followed her eyes. ‘Hueng,’ she said, raising her voice and waving a hand imperiously, ‘
out.
My granddaughter has private things to tell me. Go now.’ Hueng made a rapid exit. ‘What is it, dear girl? Speak up.’

‘Well…’ Amy said hesitantly. ‘It’s something my mother couldn’t possibly understand. I’m not even sure you will.’

‘Try me, dear.’

‘I–I did something foolish,’ Amy stammered, ‘and now I don’t know how to handle the situation.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Remember I told you about my bachelorette night?’

‘You’d better remind me. My memory’s not what it used to be.’

‘We had, y’ know, drinks and fun and male strippers.’

‘Ooh, male strippers,’ Grandma Poppy said, eyes gleaming as she clapped her hands together. ‘What a pity we didn’t have those when
I
was young.’

‘Anyway, it got kind of crazy.’

‘Nothing wrong with a young girl getting crazy.’

‘Only
I
got a little
too
crazy,’ Amy admitted.

‘What happened?’

‘I
slept
with a stranger,’ Amy blurted out. ‘I didn’t know his name or anything about him, and he didn’t know who
I
was. It was just one of those unbelievable things.’

‘I presume you regret it?’ Grandma Poppy said, not appearing to be at all shocked.

‘Yes–I mean, no,’ Amy muttered, totally flustered. ‘You see, it turns out he’s someone I know.’

‘I’m sure you
do
know him if you went to bed with him.’

‘It’s bad, Grams.’ A long silent beat. ‘He’s Max’s brother.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Max’s younger brother, Jett. You met him at the rehearsal dinner. He was at your table with the Italian model you thought was so charming. She’s kind of his girlfriend.’

‘I’m a tad confused,’ Grandma Poppy said. ‘You
slept
with a man whom you didn’t know, and
he
didn’t know you. Yet
you
have a fiancé, and
he
has a girlfriend. Am I correct?’

‘Yes, that’s exactly it.’

‘Have you told Max?’

‘No, I feel too guilty. I
want
to tell him, but I just can’t.’

‘That’s good, because you have to keep this to yourself.’

‘I do?’

‘Yes,’ Grandma Poppy said firmly, ‘you most certainly do. Telling Max will only create bigger problems.’

‘I
have
a bigger problem already. I want to be with Jett, and yet I know, especially in view of what’s going on, that I must stay with Max.’

‘And does Jett feel the same way?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about the Italian girl?’

‘She’s not his
steady
girlfriend. He’s breaking up with her so that he can be with me.’

‘Men
always
say that,’ Grandma Poppy mused, a faraway look in her eyes. ‘They’re always after the nooky they can’t have.’

‘Grandma! Where did
you
learn words like “nooky”?’

‘I’m telling you the truth, dear. It’s best that you hear it from me.’

‘I need your advice, Grams,’ Amy said, beginning to feel slightly desperate. ‘You’re smart, you’ve been around the world
and
you’ve experienced a wonderful marriage, so please tell me what I should do.’

‘This will sound
very
old-fashioned,’ Grandma Poppy said, scooping up one of her dogs and petting the furry creature.

‘I don’t care.’

‘Well, if Jett is the man for you, then you must follow your heart, dear, follow your heart. Otherwise you could spend the rest of your life regretting it.’

His mind churning with a hundred different thoughts, Max drove home from Brighton Beach to the sanctuary of his apartment.

Mariska’s life was turning out to have been much more complicated than even
he
could have imagined. First there was Vladimir, who’d probably been splitting the blackmail money with her. Now he’d found out about Alex, and who the hell was
he
?

The thought occurred to him once more–had she been
sleeping
with this Alex when they were married? Was she
fucking
another man while they were together? Was
Alex
Lulu’s father?

Would Mariska have stooped that low?

Yes, Mariska had been capable of anything.

A fury began to build within him. A fury so white-hot he almost ran his car off the road.

Mariska had always been into sex, much more so than he. She’d often suggested threeways and handcuffs and leather fetishes. He’d turned down all her suggestions, put off by what he considered her kinky desires.

After the birth of Lulu, they’d very rarely had sex at all. Was it
then
that she’d turned to Alex for the sex she craved? Or had she been sleeping with him before?

Damn the woman. He couldn’t even confront her. She was dead. Murdered. And, according to her loving mother, the killer was out there, and Irena knew who it was.

How should he handle this? Hand over Mariska’s box to Irena–money and all? Or give it to the detectives?

He was torn. If the killer wasn’t Vladimir, what did he care?

Of course he
cared.
Mariska had been brutally murdered, and however he felt about her it was a terrible act of violence.

Several messages were waiting for him at home. One was from Mrs Conner in Montauk, saying that Lulu was fine and having a lovely time–she had even put Lulu on the phone to say good night. Next there was an abrupt message from Red, requesting his presence at a ten a.m. meeting the next day–no mention of Mariska’s demise. Did the old man think he could summon these meetings at random, and everyone would come running? It was
such
a joke.

The third message was from Chris, still in town at the Four Seasons, requesting that Max join him and Jett for dinner. The last thing he felt like doing was sitting down for dinner with his brothers. He didn’t feel like seeing
anyone,
including Amy–he had too much on his mind.

Fifteen minutes later the desk clerk buzzed up to inform him that Detective Rodriguez was downstairs.

Jesus
Christ
! Was the annoying detective
ever
going to leave him alone?
Now
what was he supposed to do?

‘Send him up,’ he said, thinking he’d get rid of him fast.

A few minutes later Detective Rodriguez lumbered into the foyer of his apartment. This time he was alone.

‘This is getting to be a habit,’ Max said abruptly. ‘And it’s not a habit I care to keep cultivating.’

‘Sorry to bother you, Mr Diamond,’ Detective Rodriguez said. ‘I have a couple of very quick questions to ask you. We’re making progress, and there’s a few things you might be able to help me out with.’

‘Yes?’ Max said, keeping the detective standing in the foyer, determined not to invite him in.

‘According to the doorman at the
ex
-Mrs Diamond’s apartment, she entertained several male visitors on a regular basis. Did you happen to know this?’

‘I told you,’ Max said. ‘I had no idea who she was seeing after we separated.’

‘I thought you might be able to give me names.’

‘Now
why
would I be able to do that?’

‘Just a thought, Mr Diamond.’

‘Look,’ Max said, attempting to keep his temper under wraps, ‘in future, kindly contact me through my lawyer. You cannot keep turning up at my apartment whenever you feel like it.’

‘I was under the impression you’d be anxious to get this case cleared up as quickly as possible,’ Detective Rodriguez said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m getting calls from the captain.
He
’s getting calls from downtown. It’s becoming a very big deal.’

‘I would imagine a woman being murdered in her
own
bed in the heart of Manhattan
is
a big deal,’ Max said.

‘Perhaps if I gave you some descriptions you’d be able to help me.’

‘No,’ Max said sharply. ‘I wouldn’t.’

‘Were you
aware
that she had three regular male visitors?’

Max thought quickly. One must be Vladimir, obviously one was Alex, but who was the third?

He shook his head. ‘Talk to her mother again–maybe she can help you.
I
certainly can’t.’

‘Have
you
spoken to Irena?’ Detective Rodriguez asked, stroking his moustache.