Never Too Rich (20 page)

“
No! I don’t need them!” Olympia
shook her head almost vehemently but relaxed her grip on his arm.
Then her narrow shoulders heaved in a sigh. “Really. I don’t need
sedatives, Duncan.”

His voice was still gentle, but firm. “I say you
do.” He waited until she accepted the pills. Then, turning to the
sideboard, he poured a splash of Evian into a tumbler and handed it
to her.

She accepted it almost meekly, popped the pills into
her mouth, and tossed her head back. Then she lifted the glass to
her lips, sipped, and swallowed. She handed the tumbler back to
him.

“
That’s better,” he said with a
smile.

“
Is that Duncan the doctor
speaking? Or Duncan the friend?”

“
I think you know the answer to
that one, Olympia,” he said patiently.

“
I’m sorry, Duncan.” Wearily she
rubbed her face with her hands. “I’ve had one helluva day.” She
gave him an apologetic half-smile. “Maybe I did need those
sedatives, after all.”

Duncan gave her the full force of his soulfully
gentle eyes and magnetic smile. Calmly he waved her back down into
the leather chair and pushed another one over to face hers.

For a moment they just sat there—he looking at her
carefully, sizing up her strengths and resources and wondering how
to lay it all on her. He felt suddenly saddened. Some things never
changed in the medical profession.

How ill-prepared one is to hear the truth.

How ill-prepared one is to tell it.

“
I won’t try to minimize your
friend’s condition,” he said at last in low, measured tones.
“Billie has suffered multiple fractures. Her nose is broken in four
places, and she has six fractured ribs. The contusions and bruising
will last for weeks.”

Olympia slumped back and folded her arms
protectively around herself. “Oh, God,” she whispered. Then she
steadied herself and pulled herself together. “Tell me the worst of
it,” she ordered with a steely intensity as she sat forward again.
A piercing look burned from her eyes. “And don’t try to bullshit
me, Duncan. We go too far back. No matter what you may think, I’m a
tough old bird.”

“
That’s an understatement,” he
said. But he didn’t smile.

“
And I want to hear it all in plain
English, Duncan. None of that medical mumbo jumbo. All
right?”

“
Fair enough.” He nodded,
appreciating the way she wanted to face the facts. “Now, you
realize, of course, that it will be necessary for Billie to undergo
a series of complicated surgical procedures—”

“
From what they did to her face, I
figured that much.” She nodded and lit another cigarette. “Go
on.”

“
Well, for now that surgery will
have to wait.”

She looked surprised. “But
why?
Can’t you
start immediately?”

He shook his head. “No way, Olympia. She has
suffered much too much trauma. In a day, two perhaps, maybe the
operations can begin. Her body can take only so much punishment at
a time.”

Trying to fortify herself for the question she
dreaded most, Olympia looked down at her ancient hands. She felt
fear knot in her stomach. The cigarette between her fingers
quivered. “Are . . . are you going to be able to fix her, Duncan?”
she asked softly. She tore her eyes away from her liver-spotted
hands and met his gaze directly. “Will she look as good as
new?”

“
Yes.”

“
Thank God!” Her voice was a
fervent whisper.

“
Don’t thank him too soon,” Duncan
warned.

She gave a start, and a length of ash dropped from
her cigarette. “Duncan!” She stubbed out the cigarette without
taking her eyes off him. “What are you trying to tell me?”

He looked at her gently, knowing her nerves of steel
were becoming increasingly tensile. Her face was white and
strained, and she was nearing the end of her emotional reserves. He
sighed softly, deciding to give her the good news first.
“Physically—that is, as far as Billie’s face goes—there’s been no
damage that can’t be repaired. Thankfully, none of her fractured
ribs punctured her lungs. With surgery, she should
look
as
good as new within a few weeks. There won’t even be any scars.”

“
Then what’s the
problem?”

“
I said she’ll ‘look’ as good as
new. The cosmetic part of her wounds I can take care of. But
Billie’s wounds go much deeper than that, Olympia. Much deeper.” He
paused. “And I’m not talking in psychological terms, either,
although there are those to consider too. I’m talking about her
uterus.”

Olympia’s throat went suddenly dry.

“
It’s been torn to shreds,” he
added softly.

Olympia could only sit there in shock.

“
Sweet baby Jesus,” she said
finally in a raw whisper. What kind of animals had she rescued her
from, anyway? “What . . . what did they do to her?”

“
I wish to hell I knew,” he said
angrily. “Whoever they are, they either rammed objects up her, or
there were a hell of a lot of them.” He paused grimly. “I’m no
gynecologist, but I don’t have to be one to know how bad her
condition is. Even with major uterine surgery, I wouldn’t want to
hazard a guess as to whether or not she’ll ever bear a child.” He
touched Olympia on the arm. “I did what I could for her, Olympia.
Now, take my advice. Take her to an emergency room.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “Duncan, you know
every important doctor in this town! Please! Couldn’t you just call
a gynecological surgeon and have him come here and do it? You have
the facilities.”

“
Olympia, what’s wrong with a
hospital?”

“
I’d ... I’d really prefer Shir . .
. Billie
not
to be in a regular hospital at this time.
That’s why I brought her here in the first place.” She looked
pleadingly into his eyes. “Please, Duncan? Trust me?”

“
Olympia,” he asked tightly, “what
the hell is going on?”

She was about to say something, but then seemed to
change her mind. She compressed her lips, wondering how much she
should tell him. When she didn’t speak for a while, irritation
finally overcame his near-legendary patience. He got up and started
for the door.

“
Duncan, wait!” she called
out.

Her voice stopped him.

“
As you’ve probably guessed,” she
said frankly, “Billie has been mixed up with some very bad people.
But please, try to understand. I promised her I’d be discreet and
not tell anyone. I gave her my word. All I want is for her to be
able to put this nightmare behind her.”

“
After what she’s been through, I
wouldn’t be surprised if her mind just blanks it out. But if I’m to
help her, Olympia, I’ve got to know more.”

She disagreed. “Duncan, believe me, the less you
know about this, the better off you’ll be. The apes who did this to
her aren’t the kind who’ll forgive and forget how I got her away
from them.” She took a deep breath, glanced down at her hands, and
then stared intently back over at him. “You see, I’m not scared
only for her sake, Duncan,” she said quietly, “I’m scared for my
own too.”

That got through to him; he came back and sat down
opposite her again. “I hear what you’re saying, but I still
maintain that what she needs is a good emergency room,” he
reiterated. “Lenox Hill or Doctors Hospital. Even St. Vinnie’s or
New York.”

She shook her head. “Duncan, listen to me!” Olympia
gesticulated with an unlit cigarette. “Do you want Billie to
die?
Or have those apes make mincemeat of both of us? Can’t
you understand that, for a while at least, she won’t be safe
anywhere but here?”

“
If it’s a matter for the
authorities—” he began.

“
The authorities!” She gave a snort
of a laugh. “What can they do, except to protect her for a short
while. And then what? They won’t be able to guard her for the rest
of her life.” She shook her head adamantly. “Besides, I can’t bring
the police into this because she told me she’ll refuse to press
charges or testify.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Don’t you see?
The kid’s terrified, Duncan! And if I take her to St. Vincent’s or
wherever, I’d be killing her as surely as those apes
would!”

He was silent.

“
She has to be here. Has to be!”
she echoed emphatically.

“
It’ll be expensive . . .” he
murmured at last.

She felt the weight on her shoulders lessening
considerably. He was coming around; he had just about said as much.
“So?” she countered negligibly. “What’s a little money?”

He looked at her evenly. “Do you have any idea just
how
expensive it’ll be?”

Olympia held up her hands. “Duncan, I don’t care
what it costs! I’ll bear all the expenses; you have my word on
that. Just give her your all, okay?”

“
I guess I’ll never understand you,
Olympia,” he said, marveling. “On the one hand, you’re tighter with
a penny than Shylock himself. And on the other, you’re willing to
fork out what amounts to a fortune.”

“
Does that mean you’ll do as I
ask?”

“
Yes.” He nodded. “Against my
better judgment and for old times’ sake.”

She kept her relief from showing on her face.
“Thanks, Duncan,” she said gratefully. “I really owe you.”

“
No.” He shook his head. “I’ve
owed you
ever since I got started in this racket. You and I
both know that without you, this place would never have gotten off
the ground.”

Eleven years earlier, when he’d first started his
practice, Park Avenue and its side streets had had a higher ratio
of cosmetic surgeons per capita than anywhere else in the world; it
was even higher now. In the beginning, the going had been tough.
And Olympia Arpel had steered Duncan’s first clients to him—models
who needed corrective surgery for flaws only a ruthless camera lens
could find; women approaching thirty who were desperately seeking
to extend their too-short careers through lifts and tucks and
collagen injections. That was how he had financed his struggling
career until he had been able to make a name for himself.

Olympia’s part in his success was a debt he’d never
forgotten. And Duncan Cooper was a man who paid his debts.

He said quietly: “And don’t worry about Billie
Dawn’s bills, all right?”

Now it was Olympia’s turn to look amazed. “You’re
putting me on.”

“
I’m not,” he said
flatly.

“
You mean to tell me you’re
actually going to give me a price break?
You?”

He grinned easily. “I’ll even go one better. This
one will be on the house.”

“
Now,” she said, nearly overcome,
“I think I’ve seen everything. Who would have imagined you, New
York’s most expensive doctor, handing out freebies?” She started to
laugh. “What’s next? Two-fers?” She shook her head disbelievingly.
“Who would have believed it, Duncan? Under that frog’s exterior you
really are a first-class prince.”

“
And beneath that Mrs. Rambo
toughness of
yours,
Olympia, there actually lurks quite a
nice, likable lady.”

“
Bullshit. What are you trying to
do? Ruin my reputation?” She scowled, but her eyes crinkled with
pleasure. Then a look of sobriety slid over her face. “After this,
we’re even, Duncan. You don’t owe me any more favors.”

He raised his hands heavenward. “Praise the
Lord!”

Chapter 21

At the de Riscals’, the party had finally moved into
the dining room.

Edwina, normally cheerful and effervescent, was
gripped by a particularly grouchy mood and, even more
uncharacteristically, was feeling downright murderous. Her earlier
injury—Anouk’s absconding with R.L.—was now compounded by insult.
For Anouk had not only relegated her to what was definitely the
least important table— the third one, in the breakfast alcove off
the dining room— but also absconded with R.L. a second time by
switching place cards at the last minute and moving him to her
table.

The most important one, of course.

Edwina tried to bite the bullet, but it wasn’t
easy.

Why is it, she asked herself plaintively, that I’m
stuck at the worst table? Was I born under an unlucky star? Is this
some kind of omen? Or am I cursed with a social defect I’m unaware
of?

Half-turning in her seat, she slipped an aching
glance over her right shoulder. R.L. was barely visible in
profile—at Anouk’s side, looking like he was having the time of his
life. The chatter from that table sounded like a cage of happy
magpies at feeding time. And Anouk, Edwina noted, every so often
touched R.L. warmly on the forearm with her right hand. Mummified
bitch! Edwina thought with a flare-up of concentrated rage.

Glumly she looked around the table to which she had
been banished. Besides herself, there were seven others, with Klas
Claussen seated directly opposite her.

As far as Edwina was concerned, she would have been
just as happy to dine alone.

“
So there we were! Stuck a hundred
miles from Manila, in the middle of nowhere, when the typhoon
struck . . .” Sonja Myrra, aging sex kitten and star of soft porn
of dubious quality, was holding forth with an anecdote about one of
her very few, very minor films. At least she kept anyone else from
babbling. No trills of exotic bird laughter ran up and down the
musical scale as at the other two tables. At Edwina’s, the sounds
of cutlery on china rang out all too clearly—like Sonja Myrra’s
grating voice.