Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) (19 page)

“So, how do we off
Piggy?” she asked.

“We go through Cullen.”

“Why Cullen?”

“I did some
research.
 
Ryan and Cullen went
through Yale together.
 
They became
best friends.
 
Roommates.
 
Their friendship only grew from
there.
 
They were members of the
Yale Club and the University Club, which is about as close as Ryan got to any
kind of influential social life.
 
They were close.
 
It’s why
Cullen is running the show now.
 
The
difference between them?
 
Louis Ryan
came from nothing.
 
But Cullen?
 
Cullen is of the Piggy French set.
 
Cullen is old money.
 
In New York society, the elite circle is
a small one.
 
He’ll know Piggy.
 
And I have a plan for him to bring Piggy
to us.”

Carmen leaned back in her
chair.
 
“I can’t believe we’re going
to slaughter a pig.”

“Better
than a child, Carmen,” Spocatti said.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

When she left Tribeca
Grill, Leana gave Michael a kiss on the cheek under the restaurant’s green
awning and told him she’d be in touch soon.
 
He looked as if he was about to say
something, but then he stopped.
 
She
caught it.
 
“What is it?” she asked.

“Probably nothing.”

“That generally means
probably something.”

“I’m not going to trouble
you with it.”

“You wouldn’t if you
could.”

“All right.
 
At lunch, you didn’t mention what
happened on Anastassios Fondaras’ yacht last night.
 
Or what was written on your hotel.
 
I saw the papers.
 
I saw it on television.
 
While we were eating, I waited for you
to bring it up, but you didn’t.
 
Why?”

“Because I didn’t to want
to talk about it and I didn’t want to worry you about it.
 
I knew you already knew.
 
Of course, you knew.
 
It’s everywhere.
 
What’s the point in rehashing it when
the police are on top of it?”

“Because we share these
things together openly.
 
Or at
least, I hope we do.”

“Look, when I went to the
restroom a moment ago, Anastassios called me.
 
He asked me to meet him at the hotel at
two.
 
It’s about a security team he
recommends.
 
He wants me to meet the
owner and his team.
 
I need to call
him back because I cut the conversation short, but I’m in great hands.
 
Mario will take care of me.
 
Anastassios is being unbelievably
helpful.
 
The police are on it.
 
You have my back.
 
So, please let’s not worry too much
about it until we learn more.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know what we went
through before was rough, but in spite of what everyone is saying, this
obviously isn’t about Ryan.
 
He’s
dead.
 
Dad killed him.”

“Then explain Holt and
Stout.
 
They were on Ryan’s board.”

“Lot’s of people remain
on that board.
 
Manhattan
Enterprises continues on without Louis.
 
Who knows what’s going on over there?”

“Have you been threatened
beyond what was written on your hotel?”

“That was a prank.”

“You and I both know
better.
 
Why won’t you come clean
with me?”

There was no getting
around him, so she came clean.
 
She
told him about her interview with Maria Leonard from the
Times
, who
didn’t exist and how video surveillance linked her to Holt’s death.
 
“Obviously, there’s a link, I just don’t
know what it is.
 
That’s why I’m
relying on Mario, Anastassios and especially the police to find out what’s
going on and to end this as soon as possible.
 
But you need to understand that my life
can’t stop in the meantime, Michael.
 
I have responsibilities now that I’ve never had.
 
I’m sure either Mario or Anastassios
will hook me up with a bodyguard of some sort, and a second armed guard will be
following me around.
 
That’s likely
what I’m looking at when I meet Anastassios at two.
 
But here’s what I want you to promise
me.
 
If you sense that anyone is
tracing you, you call me immediately and I’ll make sure you’re covered.”

“Leana, someone’s always
following me.
 
It’s part of my
life.
 
Especially with the new movie
coming out.
 
If you happen to pass
Times Square over the next few weeks, have a look around you.
 
Look at the screens and look at the
billboards.
 
You can’t miss me.
 
In this city, that kind of exposure is
tough to run from.”

“You must be able to tell
the difference between a fan and a maniac.”

He smiled at her before
he left, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
 
“Sometimes, there is no difference.
 
I’ve learned that too many times.
 
Some fans have only the best intentions,
but they can be a bit wild, which is where the line blurs.”
 

He kissed her on the
cheek again and she sensed that he wanted to leave.
 
“Thanks for coming clean.
 
Listen to Mario and Anastassios.
 
I’ll be in touch with you more than
you’ll want, but deal with it.
 
I’m
your brother and I’m just concerned.”

Before he could turn
away, she grabbed his arm.

“Has anyone come near
you?” she asked.
 
“Recently?”

He looked surprised.
 
“No one’s come near me.
 
I don’t expect them to.”

“Why not?
 
You were involved in this as much as I
was when Ryan was alive.
 
Are you
saying that you’re immune to it now?”

He looked at her for a
moment, his eyes skirted away for an instant, and then he put his cap back on
and shook his head.
 
“Of course, I’m
not.
 
But everything’s fine.
 
No one has come near me.
 
If I was going to grill you like that,
I’d tell you if someone had.”

She searched his face for
some trace of a lie, but she couldn’t read past his expression.
 
He was, after all, an actor.
 
“Do your fans follow you?”

“Sometimes.”

“How do you know if
they’re fans?”

“You always know a fan,
Leana.
 
Fans generally want
something from you, even if it’s just a photograph or a signature.
 
When they follow me, at first they’re
usually a bit shy.
 
Then they gather
up their courage and, before you know it, they’re suddenly in my face.”

“I’m going to ask you a
last time.
 
Has anyone followed you
recently who you suspected wasn’t a fan?”

“Look,”
he said.
 
“You’re going to drive
yourself crazy over this.
 
Everything’s fine.
 
I
promise.
 
I’ll talk to you soon.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

Leana watched Michael
walk away and couldn’t help worrying about him.
 
He hadn’t, after all, answered her
question.
 

In spite of the crowds on
the sidewalks, his eyes met no one’s.
 
He kept his head lowered.
 
He
shrank into himself, as if the less there was of him, the less there was to be
recognized.
 
She felt there was
something he wasn’t telling her, so she’d follow through and be in touch with
him sooner than he wanted.
 

That’s what sisters are
for, Michael.

When he was out of sight,
she took out her cell and called Anastassios.

“You shouldn’t go out of
your way for me,” she said.
 
“There’s no need for you to come to the hotel.
 
Let me meet you on the ship.
 
I’ll come to you and see you and your
men there.”

“The ship is now a crime
scene, Leana.
 
It’s impossible to
meet me here.”

Of course it was a crime
scene.
 
The idea of it chilled
her.
 
“What am I thinking?” she
said.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
What did you have in mind?”

“Last night, I told you
that I’d contact a security crew for you.
 
Turns out they’re available and I’d like to introduce them to you.
 
They’re among the best—I use them
myself when I need to—and I expect you to hire them until your hotel is
finished.
 
I especially want them
there for the grand opening.
 
We both
know what happened at The Hotel Fifth.
 
Hopefully your fiancé, with his connections, also can make sure you’re
safe.
 
So, we’ll meet you at the
hotel, I’ll make the introductions, you’ll hire them, and then I want a
complete tour of the hotel. Because, frankly, I’m eager to see what you’ve done
to it and what you have in store for us.
 
Does that work for you?”

“It means a great deal to
me, Anastassios.
 
I’ll see you at
two.”

*
 
*
 
*

When she arrived at the
hotel, she was relieved to see two men standing on either side of it—one
at the Park Avenue entrance and the other at the Forty-Seventh Street
entrance.
 

The men were construction
workers, not security, but they were big—young, tall, muscular—and
few would try anything with them around.
 
She looked up, saw a clean new tarp shielding the building and better
yet—no press.
 

“You can pull over here,”
she said to the driver.
 
“I’ll get
off at Forty-Seventh.”

She paid the driver, got
out of the cab and walked across the street to the two men.
 
She shook their hands and thanked them
for keeping watch over the hotel.
 
“We’ll have you back inside soon,” she said.
 
“I know this is boring work, but I want
you to know that I appreciate what you’re doing and that you’ll receive a bonus
for this.”

“It’s no problem, Miss
Redman.”

“We’ve got your back,
ma’am.”

Standing beside them, she
felt dwarfed by their height—and Leana wasn’t short.
 
“There’s a Starbucks over on
Forty-Eighth,” she said.
 
“Would you
like me to get you a coffee?
 
Or
maybe an iced coffee?
 
It’s hot
out.
 
What would you like?”

Surprised by the offer,
they looked at each other.
 
Leana
sensed it was because she was a Redman and a certain precedent among the
blue-collar workers in the city, many of whom had worked for her father over
the years, already had been set when it came to interacting with a Redman.
 
You simply didn’t unless you were spoken
to, which irritated her.

She felt humiliated that
her name was attached to that kind of arrogance.
 
She was no better than they were.
 
She also knew that at their prior jobs,
it was unlikely that the owner of a building offered to run across the street
and get them anything.
 

But that’s not how she
intended to manage or to grow her reputation.
 
She had no intention of becoming her
father.
 
She planned to be human,
something George couldn’t comprehend.
 
“Or whatever you want,” she said.
 
“I’m happy to do it.
 
But
we’ve got to hurry.
 
I have company
coming, boys.”

The tallest one and
probably the youngest, who called her “ma’am,” said he wouldn’t mind an iced
coffee with lots of sugar.
 
The
other one said he’d take one hot and black.
 

Then they both asked if
she was sure.