The Third Sin (4 page)

The society-page photos of Irina Bruckheimer wearing the spectacular yellow gem tormented him. Brazilian papers delighted in publishing them, almost always pointing out that the rough diamond had been found by three local prospectors some two hundred years earlier and was rightfully part of the historic heritage of the nation.

Remembering it had been worn by Brazilian and Portuguese queens only increased his anger. Its beauty should radiate in the national museum, not around the neck of a rich New York woman.

At one time Elenora had believed it would come to her. He remembered the dismay on her face when his father told them it was to be a present for Esperanza.

“You are the first son. You should have inherited the diamond,” she had said as soon as they were alone. She was right of course, but like the rest of the family, Jorge was bewitched by his ravishingly beautiful sister.

Esperanza had first worn the Braganza to her eighteenth birthday party. The life-sized oil painting of her with the diamond resting on her breast had raised the envy of every woman and the desire of every man who saw it. Newspaper reproductions of the painting caught the attention of readers and made her an instant celebrity.

Photographers followed her day and night, waiting hours to snap a shot. What she wore was copied by young rich Brazilians, and envied by others. Her quick wit made for clever headlines in the tabloids. Through it all, Esperanza remained levelheaded and dignified.

Though she had taken the Braganza with her to New York, Esperanza knew the diamond belonged in Brazil. Had she lived, surely she would have returned it someday. But she was long dead.

Jorge looked out at the tarmac. The memory of the day his sister had been killed never failed to choke him and bring tears. It had begun at this very airport, over forty years ago.

While Esperanza was still a teenager, disturbing notes began to arrive at the family home, filled with sexual fantasies or driven by hate for the superrich. Some asked for money in exchange for a promise “not to kill her.” Once the gossip columns dubbed Esperanza “our princess,” the number of letters increased and their tone became darker.

Wealthy Brazilian families were used to such threats and the police said that most could be ignored as the work of “known cranks.” Nevertheless, Fernando decided to provide bodyguards for his daughter. They kept her safe until she was married and had moved to New York. When Esperanza left Brazil, the letters stopped coming.

Little more than a year after the marriage, Wade had been born. Fernando Dias had been eager to bring his grandson to São Paulo and show him off to Brazil's aristocracy. Esperanza's birthday would take place during the trip, so Fernando arranged a magnificent ball to celebrate the occasion. Esperanza would wear the Braganza that night.

Fernando encouraged the press to cover her arrival, staged in the style befitting the “princess” she was. Jorge and the director of public relations for Fernando's company orchestrated the drama of the beautiful young woman's return to her homeland.

Once the plane landed and taxied to a stop, Douglas Bruckheimer, Esperanza's husband, would exit first. He would wait for Esperanza to appear at the door of the plane, and if necessary help her down the steps. Wade and his nanny would follow. Esperanza and Douglas would greet her family, then everyone would pass through the terminal to cars that would be waiting for them. Later, there would be a press conference, where Esperanza would answer questions about her glamorous life in New York, followed by a reception for family and specially invited guests.

Jorge had called New York to explain all this to his sister. She was not pleased, and Jorge was forced to report to his father that though Esperanza wanted to keep her visit entirely private, because these were her father's wishes, she had agreed.

“We must forgive her,” Fernando solemnly advised. “Esperanza is young, and doesn't understand how important public relations are to a businessman.”

Soon after the plans were made public, threatening letters once again began arriving at the Dias residence. “What could possibly happen with so many people waiting at the airport?” Fernando asked.

*   *   *

The day of the flight, Douglas announced that he had an unexpected and urgent business appointment which would keep him in Manhattan. He would follow his family to Brazil the next day. Esperanza, Wade, and the nanny boarded the plane without trouble. The flight was smooth and on time.

At the airport, Fernando waited at the gate. Behind him, photographers jostled one another to get the best position, proof that Esperanza had not been forgotten. Everything seemed normal, except for the extra guards the airport had provided. Jorge, standing near his father, barely noticed the six men in mechanic's uniforms, gathered on the tarmac next to a security van.

The plane taxied to the gate and the steps were lowered. Esperanza appeared in the doorway and a shout went up from the crowd. She hesitated at the top of the steps for a second, then ran down them and toward her father.

Before she had taken more than a few strides, four of the men in uniforms surrounded her, grabbed her, and hurled her into the security van. It happened almost before anyone had time to react.

The nanny, who was holding Wade, had followed Esperanza down the stairs. When she saw the attack—and the two “mechanics” who had moved in her direction—she turned and scrambled back to the security of the plane. She stumbled, but the pilot and a flight attendant kept her from falling. The fake mechanics spun around and raced to the van, which had already begun to move.

Fernando was the next to react. “My god, they've taken my Esperanza. Come back, come back,” he shouted as he raced toward the security van. He tripped and fell onto the tarmac, calling Esperanza's name.

Other people were beginning to realize that a kidnapping was taking place. Security guards were grabbing for their radios, the photographers were swinging their cameras around. Suddenly, an airport baggage truck accelerated away from the terminal, apparently trying to get between the kidnappers' van and the airport exit. The van picked up speed, tried to swerve around the baggage vehicle, and smashed into a concrete security barrier with a horrible sound of screeching tires, broken glass, and crumpled metal.

Fernando Dias reached the wreck in moments, but he was too late. There were no survivors. Esperanza was dead, her skull crushed, her dark beauty reduced to a tangle of bone and blood.

Fernando's grief was unbearable. He blamed himself—and airport security—but most of all, he blamed Douglas, his son-in-law. “Why wasn't Douglas there to protect his wife and son? What business kept him in New York? Why did I let her marry him? He has no sense of responsibility.”

Douglas took the next flight south. He tried to meet with his father-in-law, but Fernando refused to see him. Without waiting for Esperanza's funeral, Douglas left as soon as he could, with Wade in his arms, the nanny at his side, and the Braganza in his briefcase.

Fernando was determined to obtain custody of his grandson. He pursued every possible legal angle, and Douglas fought him at every turn. Before the struggle ended, it had become a bitter, ugly battle, and the tabloids thrived on it.

The infant Wade became a celebrity, just as his mother had been. The press in Brazil never got enough of him and his poor-little-rich-boy story. The New York papers were almost as greedy. Nine years later, Douglas married Irina, who at nineteen had no interest in being the mother of a spoiled ten-year-old. Though Douglas had fought tooth and nail to retain custody of his son, he allowed Irina to send the boy to boarding school without complaint. That, too, had been covered thoroughly by the press. From school, Wade had sent his uncle Jorge a steady stream of letters of complaint.

*   *   *

For many years, Jorge had believed it was his duty to watch over his nephew; that belief had been worn away by Wade's near-constant demands. Esperanza's son had been trouble from the hour he came so unhappily into his life.

How many times had he flown to New York after one of Wade's urgent calls for help? And how often had he risked customs to bring sleeping pills to his nephew? He patted his pocket. Wade's insomnia was chronic; he no longer achieved relief with any medications available in the U.S. Only the pills Jorge brought him were powerful enough to work; they were so strong they weren't approved for sale in the States.

Jorge saw that his plane's copilot was waiting at the door for him. He picked up his briefcase and began his last journey to New York. Wade's decision to sell the diamond showed how little his nephew cared about Brazil and the Dias family. This was his last trip. Wade would not trouble him again.

 

Chapter
5

T
HURSDAY, 6:45 A.M.

Sonya's apartment

Sonya lay in bed and watched Keith Harris's trim, naked back through the open bathroom door. He leaned toward the bathroom mirror, holding his square chin high as he scraped the shaving cream off his neck. He was a detective with the NYPD and was as meticulous about shaving as he was about his work. He had a heavy beard, she knew all too well; sometimes she felt like leaping out of bed in the middle of the night to massage soothing skin cream into her face.

She swung her legs onto the floor, put on her cotton robe, and went into the kitchen. She could not bring herself to walk naked through her own apartment, though she enjoyed watching Harris do it. It was her upbringing in rural Minnesota. Did her mother ever walk around naked? Sonya doubted it.

Keith had made coffee. Two filled mugs stood on the counter.

Sonya smiled. Keith tried to please her. But then so did most divorced men at the start of an affair. What followed later was something else, something that usually ended badly. Not that she had an unblemished record; her own marriage had ended with a divorce on her thirtieth birthday.

Keith came up behind her, kissed the back of her neck, then gently turned her to face him. He kissed her again, pulled her robe open, and touched her breasts. Sonya shivered and responded by curving her body against his. She could feel his erection pressing against her.

“Come on,” he whispered, “it's back to bed for us.”

She hesitated, then relaxed and let him guide her to the bedroom, where they made love again.

With her husband it had been different, never satisfying. Sonya had only felt this way with Keith. He was a skillful lover who knew how to please her, and she wanted to do the same for him.

As he lay close beside her, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and whispered, “Keith, we have to get up. We'll be late for work…” They laughed together.

“What better reason?” He grinned as he got up and headed again for the bathroom. “I'll just take another quick shower.” Sonya went to the kitchen. She stood there, thinking how different he was from her ex-husband. Maybe it would work the second time around.

“Why are you frowning?” he asked as he came in toweling his hair.

She handed him a mug of now-cooling coffee. “Do you want me to zap it for you?”

He took a gulp. “It's okay. What's the matter?”

She sat at the kitchen table, saying, “Nothing you need to know about.”

“Tell me.”

“It's nothing.”

He sat next to her and kissed her on the ear. “Tell me. I want to know everything about you.”

She stiffened. She didn't want him to know everything about her. And she didn't like his need to be in control. The pleasure of their lovemaking began to fade.

She decided to let him have it.

“Since you want to know, I was wondering how long you can keep being Mr. Good Guy. You're so perfect; I think you must be making a superhuman effort to please me. One day I'll come in and find dirty dishes piled in the sink and the garbage overflowing. That'll be the day I see the real Keith Harris.”

He laughed. “Are you serious?”

She bristled. “Yes. I'm serious.”

He laughed again. “Okay then. Here's the answer. I'll be Mr. Good Guy for as long as you want me around.” He waited for her response, but she said nothing. Keith continued quietly, “I'm naturally neat and if I learned one thing from being married to a messy woman, it was that it's easier to clean as you go. It's not such a big deal. Are you really worried about dirty dishes?”

She got up and poured herself another cup of coffee, thinking about her ex-husband and his two small children arriving for their month-long summer vacation. Each time they came, everything changed. Out of guilt about the divorce, he gave in to their every demand. She hated it when the kids jumped on her new sofa, when they deliberately spilled sodas to get attention, when they used her lipsticks to draw faces on the bedroom wallpaper.

“But you love his children, don't you?” her mother had asked when she'd complained.

“No,” Sonya had answered. “And I doubt I ever will.” She had been right about that.

She put her mug into the microwave oven and pressed the beverage reheat button. Keith was silent, and Sonya saw his disappointment that she had not responded to what he said. “Let's talk about it another time. I've got to concentrate on Donna's interview this morning.”

He was as willing to change the subject as she was. “You said it's with Wade Bruckheimer, right?”

“Yes, now that he's decided to go ahead with the auction of the famous Braganza diamond.”

“It sounds like another lightweight puff piece. I thought you didn't want to do them anymore.”

“I've got another angle on it now. The story is going to center on his family. There seems to be a lot of conflict about the sale, and when family members fight, there's nearly always a good story. Wade believes he has the right to sell the Braganza, but it seems that there might be some question about that.”

“How did you get the inside stuff on the Bruckheimers?”