I'll Be Seeing You (27 page)

“Yes, Mama.”

“What time did you go to bed?”

“I guess about eleven o'clock.”

“I woke up to go to the bathroom at eleven-thirty. You weren't in bed then.”

“Maybe it was a little later, Mama.”

“I thought I heard your voice. Were you talking to someone?”

“No, Mama. Who would I be talking to?”

“I thought I heard a woman's voice.”

“Mama, it was the television.” He gulped the cereal and tea. “I have to be at work early.”

She watched him from the door. “Be home on time for dinner. I don't want to be fussing in the kitchen all night.”

He wanted to tell her that he expected to work overtime but didn't dare. Maybe he'd call her later.

Three blocks away he stopped at a public telephone. It was cold, but the shiver he felt as he dialed Meghan's apartment had more to do with anticipation than chill. The phone rang four times. When the answering machine clicked on, he hung up.

He then dialed the house in Connecticut. A woman answered. It must be Meghan's mother, Bernie thought. He deepened his voice, quickened its pace. He wanted to sound like Tom Weicker.

“Good morning, Mrs. Collins. Is Meghan there?”

“Who is this?”

“Tom Weicker of PCD.”

“Oh, Mr. Weicker, Meg will be sorry she missed your call. She's out of town today.”

Bernie frowned. He wanted to know where she was. “Can I reach her?”

“I'm afraid not. But I'll be hearing from her late this afternoon. May I have her phone you?”

Bernie thought swiftly. It would sound wrong if he didn't say yes. But he wanted to know when she'd be back. “Yes, have her call. Do you expect her to be home this evening?”

“If not tonight, surely tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Bernie hung up, angry that he couldn't reach Meghan, but glad he hadn't wasted a trip to Connecticut. He got back in the car and headed for Kennedy Airport. He might just as well get some fares today, but they'd better not tell him how to drive.

This time the special investigators of Helene Petrovic's death did not go to Phillip Carter. Instead, late Tuesday morning they phoned and asked if it would be convenient for him to stop in for an informal chat at the assistant state attorney's office in the Danbury courthouse.

“When would you like me to come?” Carter asked.

“As soon as possible,” Investigator Arlene Weiss told him.

Phillip glanced at his calendar. There was nothing on it that he couldn't change. “I can make it around one,” he suggested.

“That will be fine.”

After he replaced the receiver he tried to concentrate on the morning mail. There were a number of references in on candidates whom they were considering offering to two of their major clients. As least so far those clients hadn't pulled back.

Could Collins and Carter Executive Search weather the storm? He hoped so. One thing he would do in the very near future would be to change the name to Phillip Carter Associates.

In the next room he could hear the sounds of Orsini moving into Ed Collins' office. Don't get too settled, Phillip thought. It was too soon to get rid of Orsini. He needed him for now, but Phillip had several replacements in mind.

He wondered if the police had been questioning Catherine and Meghan again.

He dialed Catherine at home. When she answered, he said, cheerfully, “It's me. Just checking to see how it's going.”

“That's nice of you, Phillip.” Her voice was subdued.

“Anything wrong, Catherine?” he asked quickly. “The police haven't been bothering you, have they?”

“No, not really. I'm going through Edwin's files, the copies of his expense accounts, that sort of thing. You know what Meg pointed out?” She did not wait for an answer. “There are times when even though Edwin was billed for four or five days in a hotel, after the first day or two there were absolutely no additional charges on his bill. Not even for a drink or a bottle of wine at the end of the day. Did you ever notice that?”

“No. I wouldn't be the one to look at Edwin's expense accounts, Catherine.”

“All the files I have seem to go back seven years. Is there a reason for that?”

“That would be right. That's as long as you're supposed to retain records for possible audit. Of course the IRS will go back much further if they suspect deliberate fraud.”

“What I'm seeing is that whenever Edwin was in California that pattern of noncharges showed up in the hotel bills. He seemed to go to California a great deal.”

“California was where it was at, Catherine. We used to make a lot of placements there. It's just changed in the last few years.”

“Then you never wondered about his frequent trips to California?”

“Catherine, Edwin was my senior partner. We both always went where we thought we'd find business.”

“I'm sorry, Phillip. I don't mean to suggest that you should have seen something that I as Edwin's wife of thirty years never even suspected.”

“Another woman?”

“Possibly.”

“It's such a rotten time for you,” Phillip said veheently. “How's Meg doing? Is she with you?”

“Meg's fine. She's away today. It would be the one day her boss phoned her.”

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“No, I'm sorry. I'm meeting Mac and Kyle at the inn.” Catherine hesitated. “Do you want to join us?”

“I don't think so, thanks. How about tomorrow night?”

“It depends on when Meg gets back. May I call you?”

“Of course. Take care of yourself. Remember, I'm here for you.”

Two hours later Phillip was being interrogated in Assistant State Attorney John Dwyer's office. Special investigators Bob Marron and Arlene Weiss were present with Dwyer, who was asking the questions. Some of them were the same ones Catherine had raised.

“Didn't you at any time suspect your partner might be leading a double life?”

“No.”

“Do you think so now?”

“With that dead girl in the morgue in New York who looks like Meghan? With Meghan herself requesting DNA tests? Of course I think so.”

“From the pattern of Edwin Collins' travels, can you suggest where he might have been involved in an intimate relationship?”

“No, I can't.”

The assistant state attorney looked exasperated. “Mr. Carter, I get the feeling that everyone who was close to Edwin Collins is trying in one way or another to protect him. Let me put it this way. We believe he is alive. If he
had another situation, particularly a long-term one, he may be there now. Just off the top of your head, where do you think that could be?”

“I simply don't know,” Phillip repeated.

“All right, Mr. Carter,” Dwyer said brusquely. “Will you give us permission to go through all the Collins and Carter files if we deem it necessary, or will it be necessary to subpoena them?”

“I wish you
would
go through the files!” Phillip snapped. “Do anything you can to bring this dreadful business to a conclusion and let decent people get on with their lives.”

On his way back to the office, Phillip Carter realized he had no desire for a solitary evening. From his car phone he again dialed Catherine's number. When she answered, he said, “Catherine, I've changed my mind. If you and Mac and Kyle can put up with me, I'd very much like to have dinner with you tonight.”

At three o'clock, from her hotel room, Meghan phoned home. It would be five o'clock in Connecticut, and she wanted to be able to talk to her mother before the dinner hour at the inn.

It was a painful conversation. Unable to find words to soften the impact, she told about the grueling meeting with Frances Grolier. “It was pretty awful,” she concluded. “She's devastated, of course. Annie was her only child.”

“How old was Annie, Meg?” her mother asked quietly.

“I don't know. A little younger than I am, I think.”

“I see. That means they were together for many years.”

“Yes, it does,” Meghan agreed, thinking of the photographs she had just seen. “Mom, there's something else. Frances seems to think that Dad is still alive.”

“She
can't
think he's still alive!”

“She does. I don't know more than that. I'm going to
stay in this hotel until I hear from her. She said she wants to talk to me.”

“What more could she have to say to you, Meg?”

“She still doesn't know very much about Annie's death.” Meghan realized she was too emotionally drained to talk any more. “Mom, I'm going to get off the phone now. If you get a chance to tell Mac about this without Kyle hearing, go ahead.”

Meghan had been sitting on the edge of the bed. When she said goodbye to her mother, she leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

She was awakened by the ringing of the telephone. She sat up, aware that the room was dark and chilly. The lighted face of the clock radio showed that it was five past eight. She leaned over and picked up the phone. To her own ears, her voice sounded strained and husky when she murmured, “Hello.”

“Meghan, this is Frances Grolier. Will you come and see me tomorrow morning as early as possible?”

“Yes.” It seemed insulting to ask her how she was. How could any woman in her situation be? Instead, Meghan asked, “Would nine o'clock be all right?”

“Yes, and thank you.”

Although grief was etched deeply in her face, Frances Grolier seemed composed the next morning when she opened the door for Meghan. “I've made coffee,” she said.

They sat on the couch, holding the cups, their bodies angled stiffly toward each other. Grolier did not waste words. “Tell me how Annie died,” she commanded. “Tell me everything. I need to know.”

Meghan began, “I was on assignment in Roosevelt-St. Luke's Hospital in New York . . .” As in the conversation with her mother, she did not attempt to be gentle. She told about the fax message she had gotten,
Mistake.
Annie was a mistake.

Grolier leaned forward, her eyes blazing. “What do you think that means?”

“I don't know.” She continued, omitting nothing, beginning with the note found in Annie's pocket, including Helene Petrovic's false credentials and death and finishing with the warrant issued for her father's arrest. “His car was found. You may or may not know that Dad had a gun permit. His gun was in the car and was the weapon that killed Helene Petrovic. I do not and cannot believe that he could take anyone's life.”

“Nor do I.”

“Last night you told me you thought my father might be alive.”

“I think it's possible.” Frances Grolier said, “Meghan, after today I hope we never meet again. It would be too difficult for me and, I suppose, for you as well. But you and your mother are owed an explanation.

“I met your father twenty-seven years ago in the Palomino Leather Shop. He was buying a purse for your mother and debating between two of them. He asked me to help make the choice, then invited me to lunch. That's how it began.”

“He'd only been married three years at that time,” Meghan said quietly. “I know my father and mother were happy together. I don't understand why he needed a relationship with you.” She felt she sounded accusing and pitiless, but she couldn't help it.

“I knew he was married,” Grolier said. “He showed me your picture, your mother's picture. On the surface, Edwin had it all: charm, looks, wit, intelligence. Inwardly he was, or is, a desperately insecure man. Meghan, try to understand and forgive him. In so many ways your father was still that hurt child who feared he might be abandoned again. He needed to know he had another place to go, a place where someone would take him in.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “It suited us both. I was in love with him but didn't want the responsibility of marriage. I wanted only to be free to become the best sculp
tor that I was capable of being. For me the relationship worked, open-ended and without demands.”

“Wasn't a child a demand, a responsibility?” Meghan asked.

“Annie wasn't part of the plan. When I was expecting her, we bought this place and told people that we were married. After that, your father was desperately torn, always trying to be a good father to both of you, always feeling he was failing both of you.”

“Didn't he worry about being discovered?” Meghan asked. “About someone bumping into him here the way his stepbrother did?”

“He was haunted by that fear. As she grew up, Annie asked more and more questions about his job. She wasn't buying the story that he had a top-secret government job. She was becoming known as a travel writer. You were being seen on television. When Edwin had terrible chest pains last November he wouldn't let himself be admitted to the hospital for observation. He wanted to get back to Connecticut. He said, ‘If I die, you can tell Annie I was on some kind of government assignment.' The next time he came he gave me a bearer bond for two hundred thousand dollars.”