The Third Sin (15 page)

“You never change. Yes, you've sometimes given me money. Money that would have been my mother's.” Wade gave a predatory smile. “Money I was morally entitled to and would have gotten if she had lived. All my life, you've doled it out in little bits, using it to hold me under your thumb. But that's finished. I'll get enough from the sale of the Braganza so that I'll never have to listen to your lectures about Dias family ‘honor' again.

“You and the Dias family will be out of my life.”

As Wade ranted on, Jorge pressed his body against the back of the chair, afraid that his nephew might hit him. He tried to speak, but a weak guttural whimper was all that came from his throat.

“You think honor is so important,” Wade continued, “but you are foolish. You think others respect you, but that's not so. When people hear your old, aristocratic, pretentious nonsense, they laugh behind your back and call you ridiculous. What century do you live in, Uncle?”

Deeply wounded, Jorge found the strength to force himself out of the chair.

“You are a Dias,” he shouted, “and honor is in your blood.”

Wade laughed. “You think so? I say, fuck what you call honor. I am no Dias—I'm a
Bruckheimer
.” His voice rose again. “I swear to you that your precious Dias family will never again lay hands on the Braganza. I'll make that a condition of the sale if I need to.”

He had stormed out of the room, leaving Jorge exhausted in his chair.

Now, waiting for Elenora, Jorge decided that he would not tell her the details of that meeting with Wade.

His driver interrupted his thoughts, saying, “Mr. Dias, isn't that the señora?”

Jorge looked where the man was pointing and saw his wife standing by her little suitcase and looking around. He waved and called, “Elenora, we are over here,” but his voice was drowned out by the din in the baggage claim area. He waved again as she walked toward the barrier where the drivers were waiting.

This time she saw him and her face creased in anxiety.

“Oh, Jorge, why are you here? Surely you can trust me to find our driver by myself and get to Manhattan.” She shook her head as he bent to kiss her. The driver took her luggage and led Jorge and Elenora to the car.

The backseat of the limo was separated from the driver by a glass panel, and once they were settled in their seats and on the way to Manhattan, Jorge, as was his habit, checked to make sure the mic was off so the driver couldn't hear them.

Elenora kissed her husband on his cheek. “I want to hear everything. So start right now.” He put his hand on her knee and squeezed it.

She took his hand and smiled. “I worry so much about you. It's like a miracle to see you well.”

“I'm fine,” he said. “It's hard to believe Wade is gone. But I tell myself that in the long run, it will be for the best.”

“Perhaps so. I always said he was too much trouble for you.”

“Trouble he was, and will continue to be.”

“What do you mean, Jorge?”

“The autopsy revealed he died of an overdose of the sleeping pills he used—the kind I gave him. At first, the speculation was that he committed suicide, but now the police are saying he was murdered. I don't know why they think that or what evidence they have.”

“Murdered.” Jorge felt his wife's grip tighten on his arm. “You must stay out of this. Let the police do their work. Think of your health.”

“Yes, but he was Esperanza's son. I had to look after him.” He sighed.

“And the diamond?”

He shook his head. “As I told you on the phone, he was adamant about auctioning it. He wanted the most he could get for it. He's spent every penny he had on Bella, starting from the time he first saw her parading on the beach in a bikini. Do you remember when he told us she was the love of his life and he wanted to start a family with her?”

Elenora snorted. “I should live to see that happen. All Bella wanted was his money. The only reason she'd have his child is to get more money. Have you talked to her?”

“Unfortunately, yes. She caught me photographing our family silver and told me to get out.”

“We'll see about that,” said Elenora, emphatically. “What about Blair and Harold?”

“We are invited to eat with them. We have to be careful with them—Harold is Wade's executor and controls the fate of the diamond. You can be helpful there, Elenora. They both like you and might confide in you. We need to find out what they know about Wade's death and where things stand with the diamond.”

“Don't worry, Jorge. A little confidential gossip with Blair should do the trick.”

 

Chapter
19

F
RIDAY, 8:30 P.M.

Blair Bruckheimer's kitchen

Blair dropped the slices of bacon into the half-full pot of cold water, put on the cover, and turned up the heat to let it boil. A few minutes of simmering would remove the strong salt taste and some of the smoky flavor, making it just right for the coq au vin she planned for tomorrow's dinner.

The dish was a favorite of Jorge's and Blair often cooked it for him and Elenora when they came to New York. She liked to see them and to catch up on family gossip; Harold usually wanted to learn why they had really come to visit.

Even so, they met as friends, as people who shared similar interests, and were genuinely glad to see one another. They rarely talked about Wade and when they did, neither Jorge nor Harold would say anything derogatory about him. Still, Blair had the impression that Jorge wished Wade were as easy to deal with as Harold.

Over the years she had grown fond of Elenora, whom Blair found to be a sensible woman. Blair was surprised the first time she heard Elenora criticize the much-loved Esperanza—the only Dias ever to say a bad word about the dead woman. Elenora said Esperanza was not the angel her parents made her out to be. In Elenora's eyes, Blair learned, Esperanza was a calculating woman who had used their love to protect her while she scooped up family heirlooms that should have gone to Jorge as the eldest son.

Blair had become used to the constant presence of Esperanza in their lives—the portrait of her that dominated Wade's living room, the magnificent treasures she had brought to her marriage, the Braganza. The stories told about Esperanza were already legendary and seemed to grow in power each year. Blair had recently read that women who worshipped at the chapel her father had built in Esperanza's memory had begun to claim that she had worked miracles, healing their pain and solving their problems with lovers and husbands. Elenora had been a pleasant counter to the worship of Esperanza.

Would Wade's death put an end to the endless discussion of his mother, Blair wondered. One thing she was sure of: if Bella continued to live in Wade's apartment, she would remove the portrait of Esperanza from above the mantelpiece.

The intercom buzzed and the doorman announced that Mr. Sacco was there to see her. Blair shook her head. She and Giorgio had little to say to each other. Both she and Harold disliked him for the way he spoiled Kirsten.

“Let me speak to him,” she said, then waited to hear his voice with its slight but pleasing Italian accent.

“Hi,” she said. “Kirsten isn't here. She's at work. Call her on her cell.”

He laughed easily. “I know our daughter's schedule as well as you do, Blair. It's you I want to see.”

“Why?” She was wary. Cooking relaxed her and she disliked being disturbed while she was making a special dish.

“I've got something to give you, something I know you'll be glad to get.”

This time it was Blair who laughed. “Don't be childish, Giorgio. There is nothing you have that I want and I certainly don't need any presents from you. Give it to Kirsten. She's the only thing we have in common.”

“No, it's too valuable for that. I insist on coming up to give it to you personally.”

She sighed. “Okay. But I'm busy. You can't stay long.”

Minutes later, when Giorgio walked into the kitchen, she had a sense of déjà vu. He looked the same as he had when she'd fallen in love with him twenty years earlier. He still had that appealing northern Italian look, though his black curly hair was receding and there were a few more wrinkles around his deep-set blue eyes. And he still radiated the charm that she had found irresistible.

She had thought him rich when they married, then discovered he was just extravagant and often close to bankruptcy. Worse, he was bisexual and more attracted to men than to women.

“So what is it that you have for me?” she asked as she turned her cheek to avoid his unwelcome kiss.

He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Giorgio, I'm busy. I'm preparing a special dinner for tomorrow night and I want it to be perfect. At the very least you could have called and asked if it was okay to come.”

“I thought of calling but I knew you'd put me off. I wanted to see you alone and Kirsten told me this would be your night for cooking, so I tried my luck.”

“Why do you want to see me alone? I have no secrets from Harold. Are you trying to make problems again?”

“My god, Blair, can't you trust me a little? I'm here for your benefit. I care about you as well as Kirsten.” She shot him a disbelieving look. He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “Blair, you really are tough. You told me once that you never forgive or forget an injury. I didn't believe you then, but I do now.”

He pulled a crumpled red linen handkerchief from his pocket. Blair recognized it in an instant.

“That's one of Wade's. What are you doing with it?” she snapped.

He held it out to her, but she made no move to take it and after a moment he set it on the table, where it became clear to Blair that the handkerchief was wrapped around something.

“Open it, Blair, and see the present I brought you. Not just you, but the whole Bruckheimer family.”

Blair carefully set her hand atop the handkerchief, feeling the object underneath. It was oval and about the size of a quail's egg, with smooth faces. Suddenly afraid, Blair flipped the handkerchief open, revealing the gleaming yellow facets of the Braganza.

With a cry that was half astonishment and half disbelief, Blair fumbled for a chair and sat down. “My god, Giorgio, it's the diamond. How did you get it? Don't tell me you stole it?” She gave a huge gasp of relief. “You can't believe how frantic we've been, looking for it. Harold was convinced Irina took it, but she denied it. I was beginning to think we would have to tell the police it was missing. Can you imagine the scandal? Especially if Harold's mother was the main suspect.”

Giorgio reached over and patted her hand. “Wade gave me the stone for that very reason. He knew Irina had the combination to the safe and was desperate to keep the diamond. He asked me to hold it until it was time for the auction house to collect it.

“I was nervous about having it in my home, but Wade assured me it was safe there; after all, no one would imagine the diamond was in my care. When Wade died, I didn't know what to do at first, but then I decided it was best to put the stone in your most capable hands.”

He picked up the diamond and held it against the light. “It's extraordinary, the way it's faceted, isn't it?”

Blair reached over and took the Braganza from her ex-husband. “When did Wade give it to you?”

“Five or six days ago. I know you'll find it hard to believe, but Wade was deeply troubled about selling the stone. His marriage wasn't working out and he believed that was because he couldn't give Bella all the things he'd promised her. So he was desperate for money.”

The diamond was heavier than Blair expected. She realized, sitting there, holding the stone up to the light and watching its facets spray sparkles throughout her kitchen, that she had never touched it before. She'd seen it many times, of course, in its red velvet box or hanging around Irina's neck. Now she realized what pleasure sprang from its mysterious beauty. She tilted and turned the stone, studying its shifting colors, sometimes the paleness of a summer lemon, sometimes the brightness of a fresh winter orange.

Giorgio took the diamond from her and replaced it on the red handkerchief.

“Let's talk about Kirsten and her problems,” he said. “First, I want to say I'm sorry I didn't listen to you the last time we discussed her. Tell me, is she seriously in trouble?”

Blair didn't answer. There was no way she could describe everything that was going on in Kirsten's life in a few minutes. And she knew there was no quick solution.

Giorgio must have seen something in her expression, because he sighed. “Hear me out. I give her money because I want her to think of me as a kind and generous father and to love me. She likes shopping and I enjoy it too. I like her carefree approach to life. She's the reason I come to New York.

“I know I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. I don't want losing my daughter to be one of them. She's the only family I have.”

Blair knew that was true; his parents were dead and he had no siblings or other close relatives. But she felt that Giorgio had no claim on Kirsten. For one thing, she thought with bitterness, he had never paid child support. And Blair had done the hard work of raising their daughter.

But now, she knew she had to be more generous. She had to have Giorgio's help with Kirsten. She fought to keep resentment out of her voice when she finally spoke.

“It's her health that worries me. Giving her money and encouraging her uncontrolled shopping may make you feel good, but it does nothing to help her. If you really care for her, then help me get her into treatment.”

“Yes. I will do that.”

He sounded sincere, but Blair was not convinced. “I hope you mean what you say.”

“Of course I do.” Giorgio looked directly at Blair. “You have nothing to fear from me. I'll never be able to take her away from you. Kirsten complains about having a restricted life with you and Harold, but I know she will never leave you. Wade and I both suggested she move to Milan with me, but she always rejected the idea. She loves you and she knows she needs the stability you give her.”