Three Fates (49 page)

Carrie went to her, took both Tia’s hands, looked hard into her eyes. “You wouldn’t have asked me to do this if it wasn’t important. Really important.”

“No, I wouldn’t have.”

“When you can, you’re going to explain everything.”

“You’ll be the first.”

She nodded, then turned to Malachi. “If whatever’s going on here hurts her, in any way, shape or form, I’m coming after you. And I’m taking you down.”

“I’ll hold your coat,” Cleo offered and bit into her bagel. “Sorry, Mal, we girls have to stick together.”

“I’m probably going to like you,” Carrie decided. “All three of you. I sure as hell hope so, since I broke several federal laws acquiring the information I’m about to give you.”

“For that, you get a whole bagel. We’ve got cinnamon, plain and onion.”

Carrie offered Cleo her first smile. “I’ll live recklessly and go for the cinnamon.”

 

 

ABOUT THE TIME Carrie was polishing off her bagel and explaining the details of Anita Gaye and Morningside Antiquities’ financial picture, Anita was having breakfast in bed.

Now that she’d had time to think, and a bit more rest, she wasn’t so upset about the attempted break-in. She’d just consider it a wake-up call.

Nobody and nothing was to be trusted.

It was true that the security had held. But as far as she knew that might have been dumb luck or due to some foolish mistake by the thieves. She’d have Jack Burdett and company go over the system, inch by inch. And when they were done, she’d call in another consultant, have them evaluate the system.

One doctor tells you something’s wrong with your body, a smart woman gets a second opinion. Morningside was every bit as vital to her as her own health. Without it, her business and social contacts would start to dry up, and her income would suffer a serious shortfall.

Anita Gaye took care of Anita Gaye.

She sat back against the pillows, sipped her coffee and glanced toward the doors of her walk-in closet. Behind the side panel where her day-wear suits hung in a meticulous, color-coordinated row was a safe even the household staff knew nothing about.

The Fate was tucked away now. She was glad the break-in had jolted her into bringing it here. She’d long since stopped thinking of it as an asset for Morningside, but as a personal belonging.

For the right price, of course, she’d sell it without a moment’s sentimental hesitation. But when she had all three, she would wallow in it for a while. Her little secret. And she was considering keeping them for a short time. Perhaps putting them on loan—briefly—and reaping the publicity.

Anita Gaye, the skinny girl from Queens, would have made the biggest find, successfully executed the splashiest coup of the century. You couldn’t buy that kind of respect and power, she mused. You couldn’t inherit it from your rich, elderly and conveniently deceased husband.

It was going to be hers, she thought. Whatever it took. Whoever had to pay.

After pouring the second cup of coffee from her favorite Derby pot, she picked up the portable phone on her bed tray and called Jack’s cell phone.

“Burdett.” He was drinking coffee himself, and nibbling on Rebecca’s fingers.

“Jack, Anita.” She worked tears into her voice. “I want to apologize for my behavior this morning. I had no right to take things out on you the way I did.”

Jack winked at Rebecca. “No need to apologize, Anita. You’d had a bad shock, were understandably upset.”

“Regardless, you were there for me, just as your system was there for Morningside. I feel dreadful about it.”

“It’s forgotten,” he said while Rebecca mimed strangling herself and gagging. “I’m on my way back to Morningside right now,” he began.

“Pants on fire,” Rebecca whispered and got a light bop on the head.

“I’m going over the system personally. I’ve already called in my best tech to do an analysis. We’ll both be there within the hour. Whatever vulnerabilities allowed the system to be breached as far as it was will be corrected. You have my word.”

“I know I can count on you. I’ll meet you there, if you don’t mind. I’d feel better knowing more of what’s involved.”

“I’ll take you through it.”

“I’m so grateful. Jack, I wonder if you’ve had any time to work on that other matter we discussed.”

“Cleo Toliver, right?” He gave Rebecca the thumbs-up sign. “As a matter of fact, I got some data just last night. I intended to write up a report for you today. Slipped my mind with the trouble this morning.”

“Oh, I don’t need anything as formal as a written report. Anything you can tell me—”

“I’ll fill you in when I see you. How’s that? I’m glad you’re sounding more yourself, Anita. I’ll see you at Morningside.” He clicked off before she could answer.

“Butter wouldn’t melt,” he commented, and pulled Rebecca into his lap. “What do you want to bet she’s figured out a way to scam the insurance claim?”

“I don’t take sucker bets.” She touched her lips to his, then just sank in.

“We gotta go,” he murmured.

“Mmm. I think we’ve gotten caught in terrible traffic.” His hands slid under her shirt. “It’s a jungle out there,” he agreed. “What’s five more minutes?”

It was fifteen, but he wasn’t counting.

By the time Anita arrived, he had Rebecca suited up in coveralls and a gimme cap, running a system check, with a few finesses. He’d measured and ordered the replacement glass for the window and was outside on the sidewalk studying the delivery entrance.

“My assistant said you’d be out here.” She looked delicately pale. “I thought the staff would be nervous,” she began. “But they seem to be more excited.”

“A lot of people react that way, especially when it’s not their property that’s been violated. How you holding up?”

“I’m fine now. Really. I’ve got so much paperwork to do over this, it’ll keep my mind busy. Why are you out here?”

“Wanted to take a look. I have to figure they did a study of the building, the neighborhood. Traffic patterns, patrols, angle of vision from residential buildings nearby. And they picked the best spot. Upper window. Calculated risk that would be most vulnerable. Replacement glass will be installed by five. Guaranteed.”

“Thank you, Jack.” She laid a hand on his arm. “Morningside was Paul’s life.” She let out a shaky breath. “And he entrusted it to me. I couldn’t bear letting him down.”

Spare me, Jack thought, but laid a hand over hers. “We’ll take care of it for him. That’s a promise.”

“I feel better knowing that. Let’s walk around to the front. I could use the time to clear my head a bit more.”

“Fine. I’ll go over the system with you. My tech’s in there now. If there’s a hole, we’ll plug it.”

“I know. Paul considered you the best. So do I. I trust you, Jack. That’s why I asked for your help regarding this Toliver woman. You said you found out something?”

“It was tricky.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “But I don’t like to disappoint a client. Or a friend.” He ran through basic information he was sure she already knew, listened to her feign surprise as he mentioned Cleo’s parents’ names.

“For heaven’s sake, I know Andrew Toliver. Slightly, strictly socially, but . . . This woman who threatened me is his daughter? What a world.”

“Classic black sheep. Troublemaker,” he added, knowing Cleo would grin wickedly at the rundown. “Problems in school, minor brushes with juvie. Hasn’t had much luck landing permanent jobs as a dancer. Looks like she’s just back in New York from Eastern Europe. I’m still digging into that. It’s not a simple matter to get information from that area.”

“I appreciate your trying. Did you find an address for her?”

“Address on record’s the apartment she had before she took off for Europe. Moved out about eight months ago. She’s not living there now. In fact, she’s not in New York at all.”

Anita stopped dead. “What do you mean she’s not in New York? She has to be. She contacted me. I met her here.”

“That was then, this is now. Cleopatra Toliver, the one who matches your description and the passport number I was able to finesse, left for Greece this morning. Athens.”

“Athens.” She turned, and her fingers dug into his arm. “You’re sure about that?”

“I’ve got the airline, flight and ticket number back at my place. Since I figured you’d want to know, I called and confirmed the flight after I talked to you this morning. She’s been in the air about an hour.” He reached for the door of Morningside. “She’s headed several thousand miles away, Anita. You don’t have to worry about her now.”

“What?” She pulled herself back. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Athens,” Anita repeated. “She’s gone to Athens.”

 

 

 

 

W
ITH her feet propped on the counter while she paged through one of a stack of computer magazines she’d stockpiled, Rebecca manned the listening post. She paused in the middle of an article, ears pricking as she heard Anita’s voice snapping out orders.

Smiling, Rebecca swiveled the chair, picked up the phone. “The rat’s taken the cheese,” she said. “Tell Tia she’s on. Then somebody come relieve me. I’m bored half to death.”

“We’ll be along.” Malachi hung up the secured line. “It’s your cue, darling,” he said to Tia. “Are you set?”

“I didn’t think she’d move so fast.” Tia pressed a hand to her nervous stomach and felt the soft nap of her new red sweater. “I’m set. I’ll meet you all back at Jack’s.”

“I could go with you as far as the police station.”

“No. I’m fine. Being a little nervous will just make it all the more credible.” She slipped on a jacket, then for an extra boost, draped the boldly patterned scarf she’d bought on one of her new shopping sprees over her shoulders. “I think I’m getting good at all this.”

“Sweetheart.” He wrapped his fingers around the scarf and used it to tug her to him for a kiss. “You’re a natural.”

She held on to that—the confidence and the kiss—all the way into the Detectives Bureau at the Sixty-first Precinct.

She asked for Detective Robbins, stood twisting the strap of her handbag, then managed a shy smile when he came to get her.

“Dr. Marsh?”

“Detective Robbins, thanks so much for seeing me. I feel so foolish coming in here, bothering you.”

“Don’t give it a thought.” His face remained polite and blank as he studied her. “I saw you outside Anita Gaye’s office. Morningside Antiquities.”

“Yes.” She tried a slightly embarrassed, slightly fuddled look in response. “I got so flustered when I heard your name and recognized it. I couldn’t think how to introduce myself in front of Anita without it all being so awkward and complicated. And I didn’t think you’d remember the name, from when I called you about Jack Burdett.”

“I remembered. You and Ms. Gaye friends?”

“Oh no.” She flushed now. “Not really what you’d call friends. We did have lunch once, and I invited her to lunch again, at her convenience. But she . . . Well, this is all very complicated after all.”

“You want some coffee?”

“Well, I . . .”

“I could use some.” He gestured, then led her into the tiny break area. “Cream, sugar?”

“Do you have decaf?”

“Sorry, strictly high-test around here.”

“Oh, well . . . Actually, if I could just have some water.”

“No problem.” He poured a cup from the spigot of a tiny sink, and Tia tried not to think of the horrors of city tap water. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“It’s probably nothing.” She lifted the cup, but couldn’t quite make herself risk a sip. “I feel like an idiot.” She glanced around the boxy coffee room with its cluttered counters, crowded corkboard and water-stained ceiling.

“Just tell me what’s on your mind.” He brought his coffee to the table, sat across from her.

“All right. Well . . . I thought of you, Detective, because I’d written down your information when Mr. Burdett came to see me that day. That was the oddest thing.”

He gave her an encouraging nod. “Jack has a talent for odd things.”

She bit her lip. “You . . . you did vouch for him, right? I mean you know him and believe he’s honest and responsible.”

“Absolutely. Jack and I go way back. He’s unorthodox at times, Dr. Marsh, but you can trust him right down the line.”

“Good. That’s good. I feel more confident knowing that. It’s just that that day when he told me my phones were tapped—”

“Did he?” He shifted in his seat, straightened.

“Yes. Didn’t he mention that to you? You see, he’d tried to call me about something, apparently, and when he did he detected something about the line. I don’t really understand how all that works. And I have to admit, Detective, even with you reassuring me about him, I didn’t believe him. Why should my phones be tapped, after all? That’s just silly. Don’t you think?”

“Any reason you can think of why anyone would want to listen to your phone calls?”

“None at all. I live a very quiet sort of life. Most of my calls involve my research or my family. Nothing of particular interest to anyone but another mythologist. But it did unnerve me a little. Even so, I more or less dismissed it until . . . Do you know anything about the Three Fates?”

“Can’t say I do.”

“They’re characters in Greek myth. Three sisters who spin, measure and cut the thread of life. They’re also statues. Small, precious silver statues. Another kind of myth in antique and art circles. One of my ancestors owned one, and it was lost with him and his wife on the
Lusitania.
The other two . . .” She spread her hands. “Who can say? They’re reasonably valuable separately, but would be priceless as a complete set. Mr. Burdett contacted me because he’s a collector, and he’d learned of the connection with my family. My father owns Wyley’s. The antique and auction house.”

“Okay. So Jack was hoping for a line on these statues through you.”