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‘How are you, darling? I was so sorry to hear you lost the baby.’ She put the clipboard back. ‘You must really regret the abortions now.’

Cindy glared at her. ‘I never had any abortions.’

‘Oh,’ Kendall smiled, ‘it must be a mistake. I’ll tell the nurse to alter this “previous pregnancies” thing on my way out.’

Cindy said nothing.

‘I didn’t even think it was true, the baby,’ Kendall continued. ‘Whose was it?’

Cindy closed her eyes.

‘It wasn’t likely to be Harry’s, you little whore. You screwed anything in pants.’

Cindy opened her eyes again. ‘You mean like you did to get yourself pregnant? That was why he married you, wasn’t it?’

Kendall’s eyes slanted like a snake’s as she cocked her head to one side. ‘If you hadn’t shot him he’d have kicked you out, and you know it.’

‘The way he kicked you out?’

‘You’re a poisonous little bitch, aren’t you?’

‘Takes one to know one.’

‘My, my, that was quite a fast retort — unusual for you. That chemical garbage you stuff yourself with usually makes you totally fucking off the wall. But I’m sorry, really I am. It won’t be quite so heart-rending now, will it? “Pregnant wife on trial for her husband’s murder” would have been quite a sexy angle.’

‘Go away. Leave me alone.’

Kendall pursed her lips. ‘Was it Harry’s?’

‘Yes. And that must have really pissed you off.’

Kendall recomposed her features into what she hoped was a pleasant smile. ‘Look, Cindy, that’s all water under the bridge. I’m sorry for... teasing you — I guess I’m just jealous, you know, about you and the baby and all.’ She gave a sigh, as though of sorrow at the realization of her own human weakness, and her expression grew still more saccharine-sweet. ‘Let’s you and me not fight,’ she went on. ‘I mean, we’ve both suffered such a terrible loss and we’re both in the same boat about a lot of things — Harry, and the will, and... well, you know there’s just a few little videotapes out at the house I think both of us would rather not watch with our moms.’

‘What?’ Cindy said weakly. ‘Harry... did stuff with you too?’

‘Harry did stuff with the Koi carp and the juice extractor, darling.’ Kendall’s voice was more businesslike now. ‘Did you get the key to the office?’

‘No. But somebody else did. Somebody broke in — there were tapes all over the floor, but just his movies and stuff, they didn’t take any. I can’t find the private ones. I looked all over.’

‘They must be still at the house, and Feinstein’s in charge now while you’re lying here, Cindy. You don’t want him finding them and sitting around whacking off to them, now do you?’

‘I guess not.’

Well, then, call Jose and Juana and tell them to let me in to collect them. I won’t take anything else.’

‘Like fuck you won’t, Kendall.’ Even Cindy was not too dumb to be taken in by that ploy. ‘I know you’d walk out with a couple of Jackson de Koonings, or whatever they are, tucked in your tights.’

‘Cindy, I don’t intend to discuss this with you at this time,’ Kendall said prissily. ‘You got my attorney’s letter and you know that the collection of art works at the house, which Harry and I built up, was jointly owned. My paintings do not form part of the contents of the house, and I can prove it because I paid the insurance premiums — which shows Harry acknowledged before he died that I had a proprietary interest. And what the fuck would you do with a lot of Jackson Pollocks!’

‘Sell them, Kendall, same as you. And I have news for you. If you’re banking on that premium business to set up your case, you’re in a whole lot of trouble because he never paid the insurance. I just found that out.’

‘What?’ Kendall said, her expression reverting to its former undisguised anger and greed. ‘How do you know?’

‘I found the letters telling him that the policy had expired, last chance to renew kind of thing. He never paid a penny in insurance in the last two years.’

Kendall was speechless with rage and shock. ‘But I gave him about two million fucking dollars in that time. What did he do with it?’

‘The usual things, I guess,’ Cindy said succinctly. ‘His dick or his nose. And I have something else to tell you—’

‘What?’ Kendall snapped.

‘I’m kind of tired now, Kendall,’ Cindy said, with a yawn. ‘Maybe I’ll tell you some other time.’

Kendall jolted the bed. ‘You straighten out with me right now, Cindy, or I’ll slap your face!’

Cindy struggled to sit up. ‘You lay one finger on me and I’ll scream the place down. I just lost my fucking baby, for Chrissakes.’

Kendall returned with an effort to sweet-reason mode. ‘Look, Cindy, we’re just playing into the lawyers’ hands by fighting each other. If there’s some other problems with the art, I think you should tell me. Otherwise it will just go to Feinstein and he’ll make ten billion dollars while we get zip.’

Cindy could never stand up to a more aggressive person for long. ‘Well,’ she said, sinking back on her pillows, ‘you know that Chinese vase? The family of roses or whatever? In his bedroom? It fell off its perch.’

You broke it?

‘Not on purpose, but... how old did you say it was? Only, for something so old, how come it’s got a sticker inside?’

Cindy enjoying seeing Kendall froth at the mouth. ‘Yeah, a sticker with a dealer’s name on it, right inside the thing. Some company called Classic something or other.’

‘Classic Reproductions,’ Kendall said, between gritted teeth.

‘Oh, that’s it.’ Cindy faked surprise with all her Paradise Motel skill. ‘I knew you’d have heard of them.’

Kendall picked up her purse. ‘Look, there’s no point in us talking any more now, I have to go. I’ll check things out with the insurance brokers tomorrow and call you.’

As the other woman turned away Cindy said, ‘I didn’t kill him, Kendall. I don’t think I did, an’ that’s the truth. I even thought that maybe...’

‘Maybe what?’ Kendall was heading for the door.

‘Maybe you did. Where were you when he got shot?’

‘I was at home.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Cindy said quietly. ‘Got a witness, have you?’ She turned back to her pillow and closed her eyes. Before Kendall could reply the nurse walked in, hurried to Cindy’s bedside, and turned in surprise at the sound of the door slamming shut.

Cindy gave a weak smile. ‘If Mrs Nathan comes again tell her I’m too tired to see her — she drains my energy centres. Can you get me something to help me sleep?’

‘I’ll check with the doctor. Oh, you had another visitor, a Mrs Lorraine Page. She left her card.’ The nurse handed it to Cindy and went to see about sedation.

Kendall Nathan sat in her jeep, gripping the steering wheel. She was sure Cindy was lying about the vase, but the only way to be certain was to go to the house and see for herself. She knew Harry was a thief and a conman, but would he have conned her, too, after all she had done for him? She had a terrible, sinking feeling that he just might have.

Half an hour later she was still shaking as she sipped hot water and lemon juice, and paced the black Astroturf with which she had carpeted her bedroom; the building’s beautifully preserved thirties exterior had not deterred Kendall from filling her apartment with screamingly modern design as near to the décor of the Nathan house as she could afford. The sight of all these things now, which had previously given her such satisfaction, filled her with fury as the possibility of Harry Nathan’s treachery sank in.

She wanted to scream, wanted to get back into the jeep and get over to the Nathans’ house, but she knew she had to be calm. If the famille rose vase was a fake, what had happened to the original, worth three quarters of a million dollars? She had to find out without betraying how important it was to her. And it was important: the vase represented part of an art collection worth twenty million dollars, half of which she knew was hers. Eventually she slumped onto her bed, and nausea swept over her.