The woman had seemed on the verge of confessing to Harry Nathan’s murder, but it was obvious, as Arthur had said, that she was also on the verge of a clinical mental illness, her talk moving in and out of reality and symbolic meanings. It was clear Sonja had hated Nathan, had seen herself as a moral guardian, saving him from his own worst self — embodied in Raymond Vallance — and that after he had left her she had considered him to be on an inexorable slide into the pit. Whether she had taken the pitchfork and pushed him in was another matter.
What about the paintings scam? Arthur was a painter, but that didn’t mean anything — half the population of the Hamptons claimed to be artists of one sort or another. Sonja had seemed to have so genuine an aversion to Harry Nathan that somehow Lorraine could not see her coolly masterminding a fraud with him.
The dark world of poisonous emotion, betrayal and killing, the wrecks of lives, the semblances and fragments of people left drifting afterwards hung around Lorraine like a foul smell, and she was glad to sit in the conservatory and remind herself that there was a world elsewhere. Suddenly she could not wait to be out of the Hamptons, back home among people who loved and cared about her, with Jake and Tiger in her own apartment, and out of this whole dirty business for good. Rosie and Rooney had got it right, she thought, take the money, get out and get a life, and she had an overwhelming impulse to call Jake and say she was coming home. She would tell Feinstein his paintings were untraceable: neither work nor money was going to run her life.
Lorraine was walking across the lobby towards the stairs when she heard a voice she recognized at once, a professionally trained and pitched voice. ‘My companion finds the room inadequate and we would like to move to a suite,’ he was saying.
It was Raymond Vallance, looking old and eccentric in a crumpled, not entirely clean white suit, black polo-neck sweater and black Chelsea boots. He caught sight of her at once. ‘Why, I see some of my friends from LA are here already — good to see you, Lorraine,’ he called across the lobby, and began to advance on her. ‘How’re things at Fox?’ The manager sidled smartly away, murmuring that he would see what he could do.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Lorraine said stonily. ‘Why don’t you call and ask?’
‘Sorry about that, Lorraine.’ His intrusive use of her first name irritated her and he had been drinking. He seemed madder, closer to the edge. ‘Fucking bell-boys. No idea of service.’
‘No, none,’ Lorraine agreed, her mind racing and her previous suspicions about Sonja tumbling down like a house of cards. Vallance’s presence here was virtually an admission of guilt, she thought. It could not be a coincidence that he had suddenly showed up in the Hamptons, of all places, on the last night that Sonja Nathan had to remain alive to inherit Harry Nathan’s estate. Lorraine was certain that he was warped enough to want to prevent Sonja from receiving it. He had been, as Sonja had said, the constant in Harry Nathan’s life, the one who had loved him most. Harry Nathan had been his life. He, Lorraine was now certain, had been Harry Nathan’s death, and the death of the two women who had displaced him in Nathan’s life. He had nothing more to live for — but, of course, there was one woman left...
‘What brings you out here?’ Vallance went on. There was a note of malice under the smarm. ‘Not that I can’t guess.’
‘Well, I’m sure you guessed right.’ Somehow she didn’t want to mention Sonja to him. ‘Excuse me, I’m just about to check out.’
‘Sonja still out in the Springs?’ Vallance went on, ignoring her. ‘Thought I might pay her a call.’ He rambled on drunkenly.
He was about to descend into maudlin reminiscence, and Lorraine cut him short. ‘Well, I happen to know Mrs Nathan isn’t home this evening,’ she said, wondering if Vallance was deliberately playing dumb in telling her he planned to see Sonja if, in fact, he intended to kill her. Or did he just want someone to know he was going to be with Sonja? Could he imagine that she might harm him? ‘She and the gentleman she lives with have an engagement here in town.’ She turned on her heel before he could say another word and walked rapidly upstairs. So much for calling Jake and flying home: everyone had stood aside and watched Cindy die; she was going to call Sonja Nathan and tell her to call the cops if she saw Raymond Vallance.
The sense that the final act of the drama that had centred on Harry Nathan was about to be played out, and the acrid scent of danger, cut through her.
The phone rang endlessly but at last Lorraine heard Sonja’s voice.
‘Mrs Nathan, it’s Lorraine Page,’ she began, suddenly feeling silly.
‘Hello, Mrs Page, did you forget something?’ Sonja said. Her voice was normal, friendly.
‘Well, no. I ran into Raymond Vallance here in the hotel. He said something about coming out to see you and I thought I’d let you know. He was pretty drunk...’ Lorraine realized she was babbling and made an effort to speak more slowly. ‘I just got the idea he was planning to bother you in some way.’
Sonja laughed. ‘What more can he do to me? I’d say he’s done his worst by now.’
‘Mrs Nathan, I know this sounds foolish,’ Lorraine persisted, ‘but I really feel Raymond Vallance may have some idea of harming you. He seems to feel a personal grievance towards you.’
‘Tell me something new,’ Sonja said, but her voice was more serious now. ‘He doesn’t change. I’m bigger than Vallance — I always was, that was why Harry chose me. If Raymond wants to come round, he can.’
‘Well, I just thought I’d let you know. It wouldn’t hurt to have the number for the police next to the phone.’
‘Don’t worry, Mrs Page,’ Sonja said, ‘we have a gun in the house. Many thanks for your concern.’ She rang off.
Well, Lorraine thought, she had done her best. If Sonja shot Vallance, good riddance — perhaps she’d get a call in the morning from another of Harry Nathan’s wives facing a murder rap.
She could not face hearing the disappointment in Jake’s voice when she told him that she had decided to stay another night, so called Rosie instead.
‘Hi, darlin’.’ Rosie’s familiar voice, warm as a hug. ‘Where are you?’
‘Still in the Hamptons. I figured I might stay another night.’
‘What for?’ Rosie asked. ‘Didn’t you get to see Sonja Nathan?’
‘There’s something going on. Raymond Vallance just showed up out of nowhere.’
Well,’ Rosie sniffed, ‘you must be the only woman who’d hang around to see Raymond Vallance these days. Bill’s been looking in on the office and he says someone’s been calling and calling and hanging up after the machine kicks in. I bet it’s Jake — just wants to hear your voice.’
Lorraine felt a pang of conscience — but what difference could twenty-four hours make? She’d tell Jake as soon as she got back that she was winding up the office for good, that he would be her top priority from now on. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ she said. ‘And then I’m getting right out of this business. I’ll be home baking cupcakes and we’ll have coffee and watch the shopping channel every day.’
‘Dream on!’ Rosie said, and there was sadness under the laugh that she hardly understood, as though she knew she was listening to a vision that could never become real.
‘I don’t suppose you’d take Tiger for tonight, would you?’ Lorraine asked.
‘You mean would I call Jake and tell him you’re not coming back today?’ Rosie said, with a sigh. ‘I guess so. I don’t know why I do these things, Lorraine. It must be love.’