The Ugly Duckling (17 page)

Nell turned to Nicholas. “You know I’m not going to have a setback.”

“You can never tell.” He changed the subject. “Joel said you wanted to start the paperwork to nullify your death. Why haven’t you mentioned it to me?”

“Because I’ve changed my mind.”

“Good. May I ask why?”

“I’ve decided it might be convenient. My new name will be Eve Billings. I’ll need a driver’s license and a passport in that name. Can you get them for me?”

“It will take a few days.”

“And I’ll need money to live. Will you open an account for me and make a cash deposit to see me through until I can access my own money? Of course, I’ll write you an IOU.”

“You’re damn right you will,” he said. “I may need to collect it from your estate if you persist in trying to get yourself killed.”

“Right away?”

“I’ll call and transfer funds to Joel’s bank in the name of Eve Billings this morning. You’ll receive the IDs by mail.”

“Thank you. Kabler found me too easily. Do I have to worry about Maritz tracing me to the hospital?”

“No.”

He spoke with absolute certainty. He must have plugged the hole, she thought. “What about records of my surgery?”

“Destroyed except for the ones Joel keeps here. I’ll ask him to get rid of them too.”

“Good.” She rang the doorbell. “I know I said I wouldn’t ask anything of you again. I promise this will be the last. Good-bye, Tanek.”

“Don’t sound so final. I’ll be seeing you again. If you don’t end up on a slab in—”

“You’re here.” Tania swung open the door, smiling broadly. “And Nicholas too. This is good. Come in and see what wonders I’ve wrought with Joel’s house.”

“Another time. I’m in a hurry.” He smiled at Tania. “I have a plane to catch. See you.”

Nell watched him as he walked toward the car. It was the first time he’d mentioned a trip. London?

“Come in.” Tania was eagerly drawing her into the foyer. “I wish to show you—”

“Wonders,” Nell finished for her. “The exterior is wonderful enough.”

“But cold. Joel is a surgeon, and clean, efficient lines appeal to him. But inside you must have warmth. I tell him he cannot have a house that’s as neat as one of his incisions.” She drew her into the living room. “There must be excitement and color.”

“You certainly have that.” The chairs and sofas in the room were clean and contemporary but luxuriously upholstered in camel-colored fabric. Burgundy, beige,
and orange occasional pillows were tossed everywhere. Stripes and florals and tapestries that should have clashed blended for a look that was exotic yet oddly homey. A cream Berber rug covered the oak floor that gave off a soft, warm glow. “It’s really lovely.”

“My grandmother used to say the hardest ground can be made soft if you use enough pillows.” She made a face. “Well, she couldn’t be profound all the time. But you have to admit she was right.”

“Your Gypsy grandmother?”

She nodded. “You should have seen the house before I came. Danish modern and very cold.” She gave a mock shudder. “Not good for Joel. He’s a man who won’t reach out to warmth unless it’s thrust at him.” She smiled cheerfully. “So I thrust it at him.”

“It’s very unusual. Have you thought of taking up decorating?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to the university in the fall, but I intend to study writing.” She moved toward the door. “Come, I will show you your room. It’s over the water, and I think you’ll find the sound very soothing.” She ran up a spiral staircase and threw a door open at the top of the stairs. “Is it good?”

More color—golds and rusts and scarlet, a study in autumn shades. A sleigh bed draped in deep hunter green. Ivy plants in brass containers, chrysanthemums standing tall and proud in a crystal vase. Richly bound leather books in a low bookcase. “Very good.”

“I thought so,” Tania said with satisfaction. “Blue is supposed to be soothing, but I knew you would respond to this. I had Phil pick the chrysanthemums this morning.”

Nell was touched. “You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble. I won’t be here long, you know.”

“Long enough to enjoy my house,” Tania said. “I
will leave you alone to rest a little before lunch and try on the clothes in the closet.”

“What clothes?”

“The clothes I had sent from Dayton’s the day you decided to so rudely abandon me.”

Nell stared at her in bewilderment. “You never mentioned buying any clothes.”

“What was I to do?” She started for the door. “I don’t believe in wasting time, and I had nothing to do until you returned.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why should I? You were very bad, and I wished to heap guilt upon you. Not let you think I managed very well on my own.”

Nell found herself smiling as the door closed behind her. Tania was like a warm, unexpected breeze blowing aside any obstacle in its path.

She glanced at the closet. Later.

She moved toward the window. The waterfall was only fifty yards away, and the splash of water was as soothing as Tania claimed. Phil was kneeling by the stream, digging in a bed of hybrid yellow roses.

Richard had always given her yellow roses. He knew the little touches that pleased a woman and made her feel special. Sally Brenden had doted on him. But then, everyone had adored Richard.

Now he was gone. Why wasn’t she mourning his passing?

Her grief at Jill’s loss had devastated her to the extent that she could feel only a pale shadow of it when she thought of Richard’s death. Had she not loved him? Had she convinced herself that gratitude and need were love? Oh, she didn’t know. Perhaps she hadn’t been angry that Richard’s mother had not mentioned her on his tombstone because she hadn’t felt she deserved it.
She had tried to give Richard the love he deserved, but only Edna had truly loved him.

Phil turned his head and glanced at the house before bending over the rosebushes again. He was checking to make sure she hadn’t left the house. On guard to keep her from venturing into territory Nicholas regarded as his own. He needn’t have worried. As Nicholas had pointed out, she wasn’t ready to go up against Gardeaux and Maritz. She must be very sure of the outcome when exacting payment.

But her plans didn’t include having to stay here under benevolent guard either. She had some thinking to do. She had a kernel of an idea brewing, but she would have to have a firm plan to follow before she was ready to remedy the situation.

H
e was being followed. Panic soared through Nigel.

He glanced behind him. No one in sight. His step quickened on the pavement. No sound behind him. Maybe he was mistaken.

No, dammit, he’d
felt
someone there since he’d left the church that evening.

Christine’s flat was just ahead. He ran up the steps and buzzed.

Was that a shadow in the doorway across the street?

“Yes?” Christine said into the intercom.

“Let me in. Now!”

The door clicked. Nigel hurried in, then slammed the door shut behind him.

“What’s wrong, luv?” Christine was leaning over the banister. Her lips parted in that lovely, malicious smile. “Are you that eager?”

“Yes.” He’d been eager before he’d suspected he’d been followed. Christine was not unique, but he’d found few women as talented in her field. He’d wanted
one more evening with her before he left London. Now he wondered if he should have found a hole and crawled into it until it was time to go back to St. Anthony’s the next morning.

“Then come up and see me. I have something special planned for you tonight. A new toy to punish my bad boy.”

His cock hardened painfully. A new toy. The dildo she’d used on him last time had nearly split him in half and made him come like a geyser. He glanced at the front door behind him. He had not actually seen anyone and, if there was anyone there, it might be more dangerous to leave than to stay. Christine’s place was as safe as anywhere else. There were only two flats in the building, and Christine had mentioned the other tenant was out of the country.

“Come!” Christine ordered. “Stop dawdling, or I’ll punish you for it.”

Excitement gripped him. It was beginning. Soon he would be on his knees before her, lost in the dark heat. He eagerly started up the steps.

She was standing at the top of the stairs, naked except for four-inch stiletto heels, tall, voluptuous, commanding. She stepped back and strode toward the door of her apartment. “How many times must I tell you that you must obey at once?”

“I’m sorry. I deserve to be punished.” He followed her into the apartment. “May I see it?”

“Kneel.”

He instantly dropped to his knees before her.

“Very good.” She spread her legs wider and stood, looking down at him. “Now what do you want to see?”

“The toy. The new toy.”

Her hands tangled in his hair and jerked his head back. Pain shot through him. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please, mistress, may I see the toy?” he whispered.

“Is that all you want? Just to see it? You don’t want me to use it on you?”

“Will it hurt me?”

“Very much.”

He was trembling, ready. He was always like this the first time, but he mustn’t come until she granted him permission. “If it pleases you, I want you to use it on me.”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded.

“Then that’s the way it will be.” She smiled cruelly. “But I don’t wish to dirty my hands with you. I’ll let my friend show you the toy.”

“Your friend? No one else—”

Pain tore through his back! Christ, what was it? A brand? The agony was too much, he couldn’t bear it.

He clutched wildly at Christine’s hips.

She stepped back and he toppled to the carpet.

“Too much …” he whimpered. “Take—it away.”

Christine was looking at someone beyond him. “You promised me it would be quick and clean, Maritz. He’s bleeding all over my carpet.”

“Gardeaux will replace it.”

“I want him out of here now. Finish it.”

“No,” Nigel whimpered. No one had been following him. Maritz had been there waiting for him.

“In a moment.”

“Finish it or I’ll tell Gardeaux you risked the hit because you wanted to enjoy yourself.”

“Bitch.”

He finished it.

T
he key was in the poor box.

Nicholas stared at it for a moment before thrusting
it into his pocket. It looked like any key. Simpson could have given him his door key for all Nicholas knew.

He placed the packet of cash and documents in the poor box and left the church.

He waved at Jamie in the Rolls-Royce cab parked across the street and got into his rental car.

He turned the car and headed for Bath.

“I
have the books,” Nicholas said into his cellular phone. “Maybe. They look authentic enough. I haven’t had a chance to go through them yet. I’ll check them out on the plane back to the States.”

“I’m surprised,” Jamie said. “I thought Simpson had tried a double cross and then turned squeamish.”

“Why?”

“The darlin’ man hasn’t shown up to claim his prize.”

“What?”

“He never came to St. Anthony’s. What shall I do about the money? The poor box is emptied at eight every evening.”

Nicholas thought about it. It was nearly five and the chances of Simpson being this late for the pickup were slender. Unless Gardeaux had stepped in.

But if Simpson had been killed, why did Nicholas now have the books? He couldn’t believe Gardeaux wouldn’t have squeezed the location of the books out of Simpson before he died.

Unless Gardeaux didn’t know about Simpson’s deal for the books. It was possible he had just discovered Simpson’s sellout to Kabler.

“Did you hear me?” Jamie asked. “I said, what shall I do about—”

“I heard you. Stay there for another hour. If he
hasn’t come, retrieve the money and papers and go check out his flat.”

“And then?”

“Give him twenty-four hours. Watch his apartment, and make contact if you see him.”

“It’s a bloody waste of time. We both know what happened to the poor bastard.”

“Twenty-four hours. I made a deal.”

“C
offee, Mr. Tanek?”

He smiled at the stewardess and shook his head. “Later, perhaps.”

He opened the first of the account books after she had moved down the aisle. He scanned it briefly. He didn’t recognize any of the company names listed; they were probably coded. Arrows pointed to blank lines throughout each account.

Pardeau’s portion to be inserted?

Even if he had Pardeau’s books, it would probably take an accountant guru to decipher the numbers. He saw no reason at present to run the risk of tapping Pardeau. First, he wasn’t sure the contents would be of value to him. Second, Gardeaux might not realize yet that Nicholas had the books, but he would soon discover they were missing. Pardeau would be watched and it would be best to wait until vigilance slacked.

Nicholas scanned the second book, found it much the same, and replaced it in his briefcase. He pulled the final nine-by-twelve manila envelope with the name Medas scrawled on the front.

He drew out the sheaf of papers. The first was the list of names Jamie had given him that day in Athens. He tossed it aside and turned to the second sheet.

He sat up straight in his seat. “Christ.”

“I
have to see Nell, Tania.” Tanek strode into the foyer. “Where is she?”

“Hello to you too,” Tania said as she closed the door.

“Sorry. Where is she?”

“She’s already out of here. Gone.”

He whirled to face her. “Gone? Where?”

She shook her head. “She spent three nights here and yesterday morning she was gone. She left a note.” She went over to a table and opened the drawer. “A very nice note thanking us for our hospitality and saying she’d be in touch.” She handed him the note. “As far as I can tell, she took no clothes except a few pairs of jeans and tennis shoes. So she must be coming back fairly soon.”

“Don’t count on it.” He didn’t know what the hell Nell would do. He scanned the note—warm, meticulously polite, and totally uninformative. “Did she get a packet in the mail?”

“Two days ago.”

The IDs that would permit her to move freely. “Where’s Phil?”