Manolos in Manhattan (38 page)

As she pulled away to circle the block a second time, swearing under her breath, Natalie’s mobile phone shrilled from the depths of her handbag.
Blast
. She signaled a turn into a convenience store parking lot and stopped the car. She groped in her purse and unearthed her mobile.
Devon
.

“Yes?” she said, equal parts breathless and irritated. “What is it? I’m rather busy at the moment.”

“Natalie? Where are you? I called you at home and no one answered.”

“I went out for a bit,” she answered, defensive. “I found Gavin’s scarf on the floor in the nursery, and—”

“Why didn’t you
call
me?” he interrupted. “You’re supposed to let me know when you go out.”

“I’m returning the scarf. It’s not worth bothering you.”

“Where are you now?” he asked again, his words grim. “You’re not on your way to Brooklyn Heights, are you? Please tell me you’re not at Gavin Williams and Associates.”

“Not yet,” she said crossly, “because there’s nowhere to bloody park! It’s insane ‒ how do these New Yorkers
do
it? Why?” she added. “What’s wrong?”

“Listen to me,” he said, his words terse. “Go back home, and stay there.”

“What? But, Devon—”

“Go home, Natalie.” His words left no room for argument. “Forget about returning that scarf. I’ll explain later.”

And he rang off.

Annoyed, she flung her mobile back in her purse. Really – what was
wrong
with men? They were either completely indifferent to her existence, like Rhys, or ridiculously overprotective, like Devon...and she was bloody tired of it.

No matter what Rhys or Devon thought, she wasn’t an invalid or an idiot or a gestating cow – despite her very visible belly. She was a reasonably intelligent, self-sufficient woman, and she was quite capable of returning a sodding scarf to an interior decorator without a sodding mishap, thank you very sodding much.

Her stomach growled. Natalie decided to run in and get something to eat. She hadn’t bothered with breakfast this morning, and now she was ravenous. But as she went in the convenience store and eyed the glass case of doughnuts and greasy sausage biscuits, she wrinkled her nose. Then she saw it – a breakfast burrito. The very last one.

“I’ll have that, please,” she told the man at the counter, and pointed. She paid for it and ran back to the car to devour the flour tortilla stuffed with egg and sautéed peppers.

Ten minutes later, she was just rounding the corner to begin circling the block a third time when she saw it.

A yellow Fiat was just pulling away.

She eyed the vacated parking spot doubtfully. It wasn’t very big. But her urgent (and sudden) need to go to the loo, along with the impatient, horn-blasting driver fronting the row of cars behind decided her, and somehow, Natalie squeezed the mid-size hire car into a mini-sized space.

She turned off the ignition and sat back with a smug smile. Ha! She’d done it, and without a single scratch to the car. She’d fit it right into the space.

The problem was, she realized in dismay as she unfurled her umbrella and swung the door open, narrowly avoiding a passing taxi, she might not be able to get the car back
out
. There was literally no room between her car and the two she was sandwiched between.

Oh, bugger.

She clutched her handbag and umbrella and edged herself sideways between the bumpers until she emerged, damp but triumphant, on the pavement.

As to getting back
out
of the parking space – well, she thought as she eyed the bumper-to-bumper cars, she’d figure that out later.

Natalie went up the steps and rang the bell beside the front door. No answer. She reached out to knock, and waited.

No answer.

Bloody buggering
hell
. After all she’d gone through to get here, someone had better answer that door.

But no one did. Natalie reached out and tried the knob, expecting it to be locked. But it turned, and the door swung open, and she stepped into the front hallway.

“Hello?” she called out as she closed her dripping umbrella. “Is anyone there?”

But silence greeted her.

She wandered into the outer office, but it was empty. There was no sign of Suki; her desk was unoccupied.

Well, Nat reminded herself, it was nearly lunchtime. She laid her umbrella and purse down and let herself into the ladies’ room down the hall.

“Hello,” she called out again as she emerged from the loo and re-entered the front office, “Gavin? Suki?”

There was still no answer.

She went to Gavin’s doorway and looked in, but his office was empty. Oh well, she’d just see if Suki had left the bill lying on her desk, and leave the scarf behind with a note.

An envelope scrawled with her name rested on one corner of the receptionist’s pristine desk. Natalie reached out to pick it up, and as she did, she saw a Bergdorf’s bag sitting on the floor beside Suki’s chair.

Ooh, someone’s been shopping
...

Curious to see what Gavin’s scarily stylish assistant had bought, she set the envelope aside and peered down into the bag.

Instead of shoes, or perfume, or the expensive lingerie she expected to find, Natalie saw a pair of folded black trousers and a black shirt – odd, Suki usually dressed so flamboyantly – along with a coiled rope and a couple of carabiners, the sort of equipment climbers used.

A package of Top Cat candy bars was thrown inside as well.

How extraordinary. Natalie frowned, perplexed. She didn’t know they sold candy and climbing gear at Bergdorf’s—

Suddenly, the other Manolo dropped, and she let out a soft gasp.

Suki was the Top Cat burglar!

Just then the back door clicked open, and footsteps approached down the hall. Natalie grabbed the envelope and hurried around the desk just as Suki, with a few more carrier bags in hand, came in.

She came to an abrupt stop. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “You don’t have an appointment. I would’ve remembered.”

Well, so much for “good morning
,” Nat thought. “No, I don’t have an appointment. I stopped by to pick up my bill,” she said, and held up the envelope, “and to drop this off.” She took the scarf from her purse and held it out. “It’s Gavin’s.”

Suki set the bags down and snatched the scarf. “Thanks. I’ll make sure he gets it.” She plainly wanted her unwelcome visitor gone, and the sooner, the better.

“When...when do you expect him back?” Nat asked, her thoughts awhirl.

“He’s on a job in Gramercy Park and won’t be back until later. Much later,” she added. “Any more questions?”

“No.” She managed a smile and edged towards the door. “Thanks.”

Natalie turned and fled. She could scarcely believe it. Suki was the cat burglar, and she’d used Gavin’s decorating business as a cover.

It made perfect sense. Gavin redecorated apartments for some of the wealthiest people in Manhattan – and once inside their private living quarters, Suki had free reign to scope out the security systems and figure out the most efficient way to plan and execute her burglaries.

Natalie’s heart sank. No wonder Devon had told her to turn around and go home.

Why hadn’t she listened?

She got in the car, her legs trembling, and maneuvered her way out of the parking spot, fighting down panic as she did. Gripping the wheel with shaking hands Natalie drove back to the Dunleigh as fast as she dared, with only one thought in mind.

She had to to call the police……and tell them that Suki was the Top Cat burglar.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Natalie had just returned to her apartment and shut the door when the downstairs intercom buzzed.

Still a bit rattled, she thrust her umbrella in the stand and pressed the button. “Yes?”

“You have a visitor, Mrs Dashwood-Gordon,” the clerk at the front desk informed her. “Gavin Williams.”

“Oh – yes.” Suki must’ve mentioned her visit to Gavin. “Send him up, please. Thank you.”

She peered into the mirror over the hall table and fluffed her hair nervously. Oh, dear. How to tell Gavin that his assistant was the notorious Top Cat burglar? Etiquette simply didn’t cover these sorts of situations.

There was a discreet knock, and she took a steadying breath just before she opened the door. “Gavin, I’m so glad you’re here. You’ll never believe it, but I think Suki...”

The words died in her throat. The man standing in the doorway – despite the gray paisley scarf at his neck and the trendy black glasses on his nose – wasn’t Gavin.

“Ian?” she whispered, stunned. She moved to shove the door closed, but he pushed against it with his shoulder and forced his way inside.

There was a click, and he leveled a gun on her. “Hello, Natalie. How lovely to see you again.”

“I’ve called the police,” she told him. Her voice quavered. “They’re on the way.”

“No you haven’t,” he replied. “You only just got home. I know because I followed you back from Brooklyn,” he added, and jerked his head towards the living room. “Go.”

She turned and stumbled down the hall and into the living room, all too aware of the gun he held on her, and sank onto the sofa. “How did you know I was there?”

“Because
I
was there.” He smiled at her look of confusion. “I’d just gone out with Suki for a shop. She told me you’d been and gone, and she was afraid you saw the contents of the Bergdorf’s bag. Did you?” he inquired, curious.

“Yes. I know she’s the cat burglar. How do you know her?”

“In the literal sense? Or the Biblical sense?”

Natalie shook her head slowly. “You’re...you and Suki are...lovers?”

“We are. We met in the lobby downstairs one morning, when Chaz stopped by to add her and Gavin’s names to the guest list. He and I arranged to meet here and have lunch afterwards. Imagine my pleasure when Gavin and Suki arrived to pay you a visit, and Chaz introduced us.” He smiled. “I knew he’d prove useful.”

“You used him.”

“Such an ugly way to put it! But yes, I suppose I did. He proved most helpful, for a time. He provided me with a key to Dashwood and James – not knowingly, of course, so don’t be
too
put out with him – which allowed me access to the sprinkler system. Caused a bit of a mess for your husband, didn’t it?”

She stared at him. “You did that?”

“I did.” Smug pride underscored the words. “Pity I couldn’t have caused a bit more mayhem, but there simply wasn’t time. Pity, too, that you stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, in that shopping bag.”

Calm
, Natalie told herself,
stay calm
. “So what happens now?”

“Ah. This is where I tell you my plans and enlighten you as to what’s in store. But I’m afraid I can’t do that. At least...not yet.” He stood and gestured her to get up. “Let’s go in the kitchen. I could do with a coffee.”

Numbly, Natalie rose and made her way ahead of him into the kitchen, and took down two coffee cups.

As she busied herself brewing coffee and setting out milk and sugar and cups, she was hyper aware of everything she did. Ian, the gun still trained on her, sat at the table behind her, waiting.

Her eyes scanned the counter for something, anything she might use as a weapon. But there was nothing. She rarely cooked; she either ate a salad or a frozen meal when Rhys worked late, and when he was home they dined out or ordered takeaway.

So there was no knife rack, no meat cleaver or chef’s knife, nothing but a few dull butter knives in the drawer...

...and the scary espresso machine.

As she waited for the coffee to brew, Natalie had an idea. It was crazy; it was mad, and she wasn’t even sure she could pull it off properly.

But like the first time Ian had caught her off guard, when he’d abducted her and taken her aboard his ex-wife’s yacht, she hadn’t the luxury of time. She had to think fast and use whatever she had on hand.

“Why don’t I make us a latte?” she said now. “How does that sound?”

He glanced up briefly from his mobile. “Fine. But none of your tricks.” He eyed her for a moment and returned to his texting.

Quickly, her hands shaking, Natalie focused on what Chaz said when he’d shown her how to froth milk with the espresso machine’s steam arm. She retrieved milk from the fridge and poured it into a pitcher, then tilted it, and touched the tip of the steam wand just under the surface.

‘
Remember
,’ Chaz had warned her, ‘
this steam arm gets really hot – don’t burn yourself
.’

“Oh, bother,” she said after a moment, “it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“Forget it. Just make coffee.”

“No, it’s no trouble, only – could you have a look? The milk doesn’t seem to be foaming properly.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Ian shoved back his chair and came to stand beside her, his gun still in hand. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Well, I think it may be ‒
this
.” So saying, she shoved his hand, hard, against the steam arm and flung the pitcher of hot milk in his face.

Then she ran.

Behind her, Ian let out a scream of pain and rage.

Natalie reached the front door, wild with terror, and scrabbled to open it. If she could just get to the stairs...and down to the front desk...she could get help.

She’d barely closed her fingers around the doorknob when Ian was on her, knocking her hand away as he shoved the gun hard in her side.

The click of the hammer was loud and unmistakable.

“One more stunt like that,” he hissed in her ear, “and you – and your precious baby – are dead. Do you understand?”

Tears stung her eyes as she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Good.” He shoved her forward. “Now let’s go in the living room again, and sit quietly, and wait for my associate.”

“Who?” Natalie blurted. “Suki?”

“Shut up and get moving. And no more bloody questions.”

Chapter Sixty-Eight

“I didn’t do this! I’m innocent, I tell you!”

“Right,” the cop said as he handcuffed Gavin to a ring in the table in the debriefing room late that afternoon. “I never heard that one before.”

“But I didn’t
do
anything! I’m not the cat burglar, damn it!” Gavin insisted, distraught.