The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set (147 page)

“Who’s that?”

“Mamie van Marais.”

“Didn’t you take out her husband?”

“Two years ago.
 
Now Mamie wipes her ass with his money.
 
She owes me and she knows it.
 
If anyone can get us inside, she can.”

She pulled out her own phone, found van Marais’ number and dialed it.
 
When the line was answered, Carmen said, “I need to speak to Ms. van Marais.”

“Who shall I say is calling?”

“Tell her it’s Carmen.”

Carmen waited less than a minute before Mamie van Marais picked up the phone.
 
“I asked you never to call me here.”

“You would’t have a ‘here’ if it wasn’t for me, Mamie.
 
This is important.
 
I’m calling in a favor.”

“Carmen, I don’t know how I possibly could do you a favor.
 
We both know how resourceful you are.”

“And you’re one of my resources.
 
Tonight, something is happening at the Four Seasons.
 
I need to get inside.”

“I know what’s happening.
 
That horrible Tootie Staunton-Miller is throwing a party there tonight with her gay husband, Addy.
 
They just completed the restoration on their home on Fifth and although I can’t stand her, I have go give it to her.
 
She did it right.
 
That house is back to what it once was—the grand dame of Fifth Avenue.
 
Fifty rooms!
 
Tootie and Addy have been staying in the Royal Suite at the Waldorf Towers for
years
while waiting for the restoration to be complete and now it is.
 
It has one of the only private indoor swimming pools in New York.
 
Tootie likes to say that to anyone who will listen.
 
In fact, some are saying she says it too often.”

“So, why are they at The Four Seasons?
 
Shouldn’t they be celebrating at their new home?”

“Never,” Mamie said.
 
“Only select people will ever be invited to the home itself.
 
I heard that Tootie had massive photographs installed in the Pool Room at the Four Seasons to give people an idea of how the restoration turned out, but only the best of the very best will ever actually see the house in person.
 
It’s all about positioning, dear.
 
Her popularity will skyrocket thanks to that house.
 
Everyone but the real money will want to say they’ve been invited there.
 
I can hear them now.
 
‘I’m sorry, but Tootie Staunton-Miller invited us to dinner at her grand home on Fifth Avenue so we’ll need to decline.’
 
It’s grotesque.
 
She’s got the best house on Fifth and she’s doing well with her charitable affairs, but she’ll never be as endearing as Addy is.
 
We all love Addy, regardless of his sexual complications.
 
But Tootie?
 
She can toot herself to the moon.”

“I need you to get me in.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Killing your husband wasn’t, Mamie.”

She lowered her voice.
 
“Please don’t talk about that.
 
Ever.
 
It’s awful how Bonzy died.
 
Who knew he had such enemies?”

“I just need for you to get me and one guest into the event.
 
That’s all I’m asking.”

“She knows I loathe her.
 
You’re asking a lot.”

“That’s because I gave you a lot.
 
You have my cell.
 
I expect a call back in five minutes.”

“But who should I say is coming?”

Carmen came up with some bullshit names and a location.
 
“The Mark Edwards of East Hampton.”

It took Mamie four minutes to secure an invitation for them, which would be awaiting them at the reception area.

“Thanks, Mamie.”

“I suppose I should be reading the front page of the Times tomorrow?
 
Final season at the Four Seasons?
 
Death by drowning in the Pool Room?”

“Good-bye, Mamie.”

Carmen looked at Alex.
 
“You have your tux?”

“Never travel without it.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

At their hotel, which was a modest but clean joint on Third Avenue, each rushed to get ready.
 

They had adjoining rooms.
 
Carmen slipped into hers while Alex moved into his.
 
“Twenty minutes,” she said.
 
“We need to hurry.”

Carmen laid out her black cocktail dress and shoes, and added a string of pearls.
 
When she stepped into the shower, she heard a door crack open and knew.
 
Through the glass shower, she watched the door to her bathroom swing open.
 
A very naked Alex walked inside and knocked gently on the glass.
 
“Room for two in there?”

She wanted to say there wasn’t, that they didn’t have time for this because it was too important to screw it up.
 
But she didn’t.
 
She opened the door and watched a rush of steam roll out and cover his feet.
 
She looked at him standing there and wasn’t sure if she ever had seen anything quite as magnificent as what she saw now.
 
He was beautiful.
 

What am I doing?

He stepped behind her and reached for a wash cloth and a liquid bottle of soap on the shower rack across from him.
 
She could feel him growing erect behind her and it was something he made no effort to hide.
 
In fact, he pressed against her and started washing her back with the cloth while his penis slipped between her legs and buried itself between them.
 
He smoothed his way down to her buttocks and then to her legs, coming up again until he reached between her legs and lingered there while keeping the wash cloth barely moving.
 

To her surprise, she climaxed.
 
She caught her breath and after a moment, she turned to face him.
 
He was pouring shampoo into his hands.
 
“Watch your eyes,” he said.
 

As he washed her hair, he lifted it up and kissed her neck and her breasts as he did so.
 
He hadn’t shaved since morning and the roughness of his beard was almost too much for her to bear against her skin.
 
She was on fire.
 
She wanted him inside of her.
 
But when he finished washing her hair, he rinsed the soap clean, kissed her again and stepped aside.

“I know we don’t have a lot of time.
 
Give me three minutes and I’ll be showered.”

“You’re joking?” she said.

“It’s true,” he said.
 
“I can shower in three minutes.”
 

“That’s not what I meant.”

He winked at her.
 
“There’s always later.
 
You need to do your hair and makeup and get dressed so we can get out of here.”
 
He opened the glass door for her.
 
“Don’t worry,” he said.
 
“I’ve got plenty planned for later.”

*
 
*
 
*

When they stepped out of the hotel room and into the night, they snagged a cab on Third and told the driver the address.
 

They needed an element of surprise, so Carmen wore her hair up and kept her face concealed behind large, trendy round sunglasses that suggested she either was a celebrity or a movie star.
 
Jean-Georges never had seen her in a dress and he wouldn’t be expecting her at an event such as this, especially since it was likely he already had viewed the photo of her lying dead in Central Park.
 
She checked her Glock G19 and concealed it in her bejeweled purse.

Alex took her cue from the celebrity handbook and appeared even more unrecognizable.
 

He’d shaved.
 
His curly hair was brushed away from his face and gleamed from the gel he’d put in it.
 
The look emphasized the squareness of his jaw.
 
Assisting to that end were the dark aviator sunglasses he wore.
 
His tux was standard black and white, but the tailoring was impeccable.
 
Model or celebrity?
 
People would be guessing.
 
His gun was just inside his jacket pocket.
 
A knife was strapped to his left calf.

The cab hurtled through the city, cutting past and around the slower cars because Carmen asked the driver to hurry.
 

“What’s the plan?” Alex asked her in French.
 
Each were fluent in it and given the name of their Italian driver—Salvatore Romano—it was unlikely he’d understand them.
 
Still, they spoke low, as near to a whisper as possible given the sound of the traffic.

She told him.

“Are you sure that will work?”

“I’m open to better ideas.”

He shared one with her.
 
She shot him a sidelong glance and was quiet for a moment while she thought it through.
 
“What if we joined the two?”

“How?”

She told him.
 

“That could work.”

“It has to work.
 
Do you have your camera.”
 

He patted his pants pocket.

She looked ahead of them down the street.
 
They were approaching the restaurant.

“Are you nervous?”

“I’m concerned he’ll recognize us.
 
When we’re inside, we’ll keep to the corners and wait for our chance to get him alone, if that’s even possible.
 
If it’s not, we’ll figure out something else.”

“Jean-Georges doesn’t turn out for just any gig.
 
With him here, you can be sure the governor also will be here.
 
Likely the mayor and other dignitaries.
 
We need to be careful because if that’s the case, the security has been vetted and approved by each camp.
 
It’ll be tight.”

The driver slowed beside the restaurant’s entrance.
 
Alex paid the man and, as they stepped out of the car, the driver checked the tip, paused and then looked over his shoulder at them.
 
It was too dim to see his face, but the edge in his voice was clear when he spoke.

“Au revoir, monsieur et madame,” he said.
 
“Bonne chance avec votre muertre.”

A chill went through Carmen.
 
He just wished them well on their murder.

Before she could act, Alex already was in the car’s back seat.
 
He shut the door, removed his gun, pressed it against the back of the man’s head and told him to drive forward while Carmen, stunned, stood watching from the sidewalk.