Deception (14 page)

“How would you know? You were always angry, always walking out of the house.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t made your money such an issue, I wouldn’t have been so angry.”

They realized what they were doing simultaneously. Dan was the first to speak. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“That was a stupid thing for me to say.”

“I guess this tete-a-tete was a bad idea, after all.” Jill’s tone was stiff, her back rigid as she stood up, gathered their plates and carried them to the sink.

Dan rose to his feet as well. “Jill, come on. You know I didn’t mean to be critical. It’s just-”

“It’s just that we can’t be in the same room five minutes together without being at each other’s throats. And that will never change.” She brushed by him as she returned to the table to pick up their glasses. “Why don’t you leave before we find something else to fight about. It’s late, anyway.”

“Let me help you with the dishes.”

“No.” She froze him with a look. “Contrary to what you may think, there are some things I’m able to do by myself.”

She stood at the window, watching him walk down MacDougal Street in his long easy stride. They should have never discussed their personal lives. If they were going to get along in this odd partnership, she would have to keep their relationship on a purely business level. And that meant no personal questions, no reference to the past and absolutely no cosy tete-a-tetes, with or without mushroom ri sotto

By the time Dan reached the end of the block, where he had parked the Land Rover, her anger had vanished and the only words she could remember were those he had spoken just before the argument erupted.

“I never found anyone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the way I’d hoped to do with you.”

Thirteen

Dressed in a leopard-print gown and peignoir set, Olivia poured herself another bourbon on the rocks and sipped it slowly as she went to stand by the window of her Sutton Place apartment high above New York City.

Her conversation with Pete Mulligan two nights ago was keeping her awake, and what was left of the ten thousand dollars he had given her was burning a hole in her pocket. She had already lost two thousand dollars at the roulette table and was afraid to try to win back the money for fear she’d lose it all.

Yet, she had to do something. The contractor had already called her twice at work, demanding to know why she wasn’t returning his calls. If she kept stalling, he’d start demanding his money back.

What the hell was she going to do then?

The phone rang, causing her to almost drop her glass. She threw a nervous glance at the clock. Eleven-fifteen. Who would call at this time of night? It couldn’t be Mulligan. She hadn’t given him her home phone number.

Suddenly worried something may have happened to her mother, she yanked the phone from the cradle. “Hello?”

“Hi, Olivia.”

Her throat went dry as she recognized Mulligan’s voice. “How did you get this number?”

“I have connections, babe. You ought to know that by now.

Not a man to waste time in formalities, he came straight to the point. “Where do we stand with those bids?”

Olivia swallowed. “Look, Pete, I…”

“You know I can’t afford to wait much longer. The bids have to be in by December 20. I need time to write the damn thing.”

“I can’t do it-”

“You can’t do it?”

“Don’t be angry-”

“What the fuck do you mean, “Don’t be angry’? We had a deal. You took my money.”

“I’ll pay it back, Pete, I swear.”

His voice turned thin and nasty. “You don’t get it, do you, Olivia? I don’t give a shit about the money. I want those bids.”

“I know, but I … can’t do it. I can’t do that to my father.”

Mulligan hung up.

Despite a full schedule, Philip Van Horn had agreed to meet Dan for a quick lunch at a nearby pub. As Dan, who sat at the bar, saw the attorney cut through the heavy crowd, he stood up.

“Thanks for meeting me, Philip,” he said, shaking his hand. “Especially on such short notice.”

“No problem.” Philip took the stool next to him.

“It’s good to see you again, Dan. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Twelve years.” Dan waited until both had ordered BLTs and iced tea, before adding, “I’m sorry about Blair, Philip. I had no idea until Jill told me.”

Van Horn pressed his lips together in what may have been an attempt to smile. “Thank you.”

Sensing he didn’t want to discuss his daughter’s death, Dan quickly came to the point. “I take it Jill told you why I wanted to talk to you.”

Philip nodded. “She said you were investigating Simon’s death and were trying to find out who may have had a reason to kill him.”

“That pretty much sums it up. She gave me a list of people her father knew-friends, clients, acquaintances—and I’m checking each one of them out, but that’s going to take a while. That’s why I appreciate your seeing me, Philip. You might help me expedite things a little.”

“I’m not sure I can help you but I’ll try.”

“You and Simon knew the same people. You also worked with him, even socialized with him. If someone hated him enough to kill him, you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“Possibly. But to tell you the truth, Dan, I’m having a hard time accepting the idea Simon was murdered. He was a good man, brilliant at his job, thoughtful and generous to a fault. The idea that someone would want to kill him sounds—and I don’t mean to insult you or Jill-ridiculous.”

Dan studied the man’s face closely but saw nothing other than genuine concern. “if my memory is correct,

he could also be hot-tempered and sometimes unforgiving.”

Philip smiled. “Aren’t we all? To some extent?”

“I suppose so.” Dan watched the bartender set their plates down. “At the moment, however, I’m interested in only one man—Simon—and whether his temper ever got him in trouble.”

“Not to my knowledge. The staff thought very highly of him. So did our clients. if he blew up once in a while, they forgave him.”

Dan took a healthy bite of his BLT. After he’d swallowed the mouthful, he continued, “And in all the years you’ve known Simon, you’ve never witnessed anything unusual? Anything that gave you pause?”

For the first time since Dan had begun the questioning, Philip looked ill at ease. Picking up his sandwich, he stared at it for a moment. “Maybe we should end our conversation right here,” he said. “I just don’t feel comfortable discussing this with you.”

Dan sat up straight. “So there is something you’re not telling me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Come on, you might as well have.” When Philip didn’t answer, Dan leaned forward in his stool. “Philip, listen to me. A man you and I cared about a lot is dead and now the same thing could happen to Jill.”

Philip looked mildly alarmed. “What are you talking about? Did someone threaten her?”

“No,” Dan said, bound by his promise not to tell anyone about the attack on Jill the other night. “But I have reason to believe Jill could be in danger, so if there is anything you can tell me that will help me protect her better, or help me catch a killer, please tell me.”

A heavy silence fell between the two men, but Dan made no effort to break it. Van Horn was an attorney. He knew the implications of holding back evidence as well as Dan did. “Well, Counselor?” Dan asked.

Philip put his untouched sandwich back on his plate. Resting his elbows on the bar top, he ran his hands down his face, his expression weary. “Simon was having an affair.”

Dan gave him a startled look. “An affair?”

“I know. I had difficulty believing it myself at first.”

“Did he confide in you?”

“No. I found out by accident. It was toward the end of September, I believe. Simon and I were working late when the woman’s husband burst into Simon’s office and began to scream obscenities at him. Thank God everyone had already gone home.”

“Who was the man?”

“Pete Mulligan. Simon was having an affair with his wife, Vivian.”

Dan leaned back in his stool. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“The argument started to get out of hand. I had to step in and stop them from killing each other. They had a long history of mutual hatred. A few months earlier, Mulligan had accused Simon of rigging bids, which of course wasn’t true.”

“Did Mulligan threaten Simon?”

“On that second visit he did. He told him he was going to kill him. He might have, too, if I hadn’t threatened to call the police.”

“And Simon didn’t report the incident?”

“How could he? He knew that if he filed a complaint, he’d have to expose his affair with Vivian. That’s why he applied for a gun permit, to protect himself from Mulligan. I guess after a few days, he forgot about it and never pursued it.”

Philip drank his iced tea. “When I heard that Jill had found the permit application, I had to pretend I didn’t know anything about it. I felt lousy lying to her, but I couldn’t tell her. I had given Simon my word that his secret was safe with me.”

And from what Dan knew about the attorney, his word was as binding as an ironclad contract. “I take it Mulligan didn’t say anything, either.”

“I’m sure he would have if it hadn’t been for his wife’s job. She teaches fifth-grade English at a very exclusive private girls’ school. The trustees would have never tolerated such behavior on the part of one of their teachers.”

So if Mulligan was hell-bent on revenge, Dan mused, his only other recourse would have been murder. But why kill Simon two months after that violent argument instead of right away, while the rage was still hot?

Dan took a long, deep breath. Simon an adulterer. He still couldn’t believe it. He had seen Jill’s father with Amanda. He had seen the way he talked to her, smiled at her, whispered in her ear at times, like a lover sharing a secret. No man could have loved his wife more, or been more proud of her.

And of all the women he could have had, he had gone after Mulligan’s wife.

Had he tried to get back at him for those accusations a few months earlier? Or had he been just plain stupid?

It was one forty-five when Jill’s secretary buzzed her on the intercom. “Guess who’s on line three?” she asked.

Jill smiled. Like Cecilia, Cathie had always been very fond of Dan and the news of his visit to New York, which she chose to regard as his “return” to New York, had been the subject of many discussions between her and the other secretaries.

“Only one man besides your husband could make you sound so lustful,” Jill teased. “Dan Santini.”

Cathie giggled. “Just don’t tell Freddy. Shall I put Dan through?”

“Oh, why not?” Still annoyed at herself for losing her cool last night, Jill picked up the receiver. “I have tons of work, Dan, so make it quick.”

Dan’s voice was soft enough to make her skin tingle. “Quick was never my style, Red, you know that.”

“Cut it out.”

“Ouch.”

She pressed a fist against her mouth to stifle a laugh. “I really am busy, Dan. What do you want?”

“To apologize about last night, for one thing. I was a jerk.”

Though she blamed herself equally, she refused to admit it to him. “I won’t disagree with you on that point. And I do accept your apologies. Was there anything else?”

“I found out something you need to hear.”

Jill put her pen down. “Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

“Can you take a break and meet me somewhere? I’d rather not discuss this at B&A.”

“Not right now. I have to meet a client at a construction site in thirty-five minutes.”

“How long will you be?”

“A couple of hours at the most.”

“Then why don’t we meet when you’re finished? You pick the place.”

She thought for a moment. “All right. The American Festival Cafe, at Rockefeller Plaza. At three?”

“I’ll be there.”

Fourteen

Eastside Academy was nestled between two elegant town houses and occupied all three floors of a restored prewar brownstone on Sixty-second Street.

The halls were dark and quiet when Dan arrived at two-fifteen. Seated at an antique rosewood desk in the small lobby, an attractive receptionist gave Dan a quick, appraising glance.

“Can I help you?” she asked pleasantly.

“I hope so. My name is Dan Santini. I’m here to see Mrs. Mulligan.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Are you a parent?”

Dan shook his head.

The young woman’s smile was apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mr. Santini. Our teachers don’t see anyone without an appointment. I’ll be glad to arrange—”

“I think she’ll see me,” Dan said easily. “Tell her we have a mutual friend by the name of Simon.”

After a short hesitation, the young woman pushed her chair back and stood up. “She might be in class right now, but I’ll check.”

Less than a minute later she was back. She was smiling again. “You may go in, Mr. Santini.” She pointed to a door at the end of the corridor. “Third office on your right.”

Dan’s first thought when he saw Vivian Mulligan was that he couldn’t blame Simon. In her late thirties, she had pale blond hair held back with a black scarf, arresting brown eyes and a wide, sexy mouth that didn’t quite match the prim image she was trying to convey. Even the severe gray suit, accented with a black silk blouse, wasn’t able to totally transform her into a schoolmarm.

From the pallor of her cheeks, Dan suspected she was either in poor health or his mention of Simon’s name had the desired effect. He bet on the latter.

“Mr. Santini.” Walking back to her desk, she pointed to a chair. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“We haven’t,” Dan said. “But it was kind of you to fit me in.” Dan sat down.

She didn’t return his smile. “I have to meet the mother of one of my students at two forty-five, Mr. Santini, so please let’s not play games, shall we? Who are you and what do you want?”

He had to admire her directness and the unflinching way she held his gaze. He was also grateful for it. It made his job infinitely easier. “I’m investigating Simon Bennett’s death.”

She blinked. “I thought his death was ruled accidental”

“I wish it was, but there may be reason to believe other—”

A long, elegant hand went up to smooth down her hair, which didn’t need smoothing. “What does that have to do with me?”