“Oh, that’s so nice. Only the last thing I’m about to do is move here and live in it,” said Elizabeth. She paused and dropped her head, unable to finish the sentence. Tears were now streaming down her cheeks. “I just couldn’t.”
“I understand,” said Nora. “You should just put it on the market, Lizzie.”
“I suppose. But I’m in no rush. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “First, I want you to feel free to use the house for as long as you like. I know that’s what Connor would’ve wanted.”
“That’s so nice of you,” said Nora. “And unnecessary. I’m overcome.”
“I’ve asked Mark to have all the expenses and upkeep paid for by the estate. It’s the least we could do,” Elizabeth said. “And, Nora, I want you to keep all the furnishings. That’s what brought you and Connor together in the first place.”
Nora smiled. Elizabeth’s guilt was dripping from every word. On the heels of Connor’s death, she thought his fiancée would be out for a payday. But now that she believed otherwise, her generosity was a way of admitting she was wrong. Which she was, thought Nora. Technically, at least.
I’ve already had my payday.
They stood in front of the grand house and continued to talk until Elizabeth realized the time. Her flight back to California was in less than three hours. “I’d better get going,” she said. “Saddest day of my life, Nora.”
Nora nodded. “Yes. Mine, too. Please keep in touch.”
Elizabeth said good-bye—with a hug, no less—and walked to her rental car in the driveway. Nora watched, her feet close together, her hands clasped at her waist. Beneath her sturdy exterior, though, was a heart racing with excitement. She’d pulled it off! The murder. The money.
Nora pivoted on her Manolos to head inside the house. After two steps, she stopped. She thought she’d heard something. A noise from the hedges and evergreens. A clicking sound.
She looked toward the edge of the property and listened…. Nothing.
Probably a bird, she decided.
But as she took the last step into the house, the Nikon D1X digicam chirped a few final times from its perch among the rhododendron.
Click. Click. Click.
Nora Sinclair wasn’t the only one with a grand plan.
Part Two
THE INSURANCE MAN
Chapter 25
THINGS AREN’T ALWAYS as they appear, sonny boy.
That was something my father was fond of telling me when I was growing up. Of course, he was also fond of telling me to take out the garbage, rake the leaves, shovel the snow, don’t slouch, stand up straight. But in terms of leaving a meaningful impression, everything else was a distant second to his first little piece of advice.
So simple. Yet, as the years have taught me, so true.
Anyway, I was sitting in my newly acquired office, which was more like a glorified broom closet. The place was so snug, even Houdini would have complained. Up on my computer were the pictures I’d taken with my digicam. One after another. Nora Sinclair dressed in chic-chic black, head to toe. Nora at St. Mary’s Church. At the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. Back at Connor Brown’s modest little estate house. The last shots were of her on the front steps, talking to the poor guy’s sister, Elizabeth. Elizabeth was tall and blond and looked like a California swimmer. Nora was brunette, not quite as tall, but even more beautiful. Both were stunning, even in funeral attire. They appeared to be crying, and then they hugged.
What exactly was I looking for?
I didn’t know, but the more I stared at these pictures, the more my father’s words echoed in my head. Things aren’t always as they appear.
I grabbed the phone and dialed the boss. The direct line. Two rings later…
“Susan,” she announced briskly. No hello, no last name—just Susan.
“It’s me. Hi. I need you to be a sounding board,” I said. “So how do I sound?”
“Like you want to sell me insurance.”
“Not too New York?”
“You mean, not too pushy? No.”
“Good.”
“But talk a little more just to make sure,” she said.
I thought for a second. “Okay, so this old guy dies and goes up to heaven,” I began in the same voice, which to my ear was dripping in New Yorkese. “Stop me if you’ve heard this one.”
“I’ve heard this one.”
“No, you haven’t—trust me, you’re going to laugh.”
“I suppose there’s always a first time.”
It should be said at this point, if it isn’t already obvious, that the boss and I have a certain rapport. Of course, some men have a real hang-up about reporting to a woman. When Susan took over her department, in fact, there were about four or five guys who gave her a hard time from day one.
That’s why on day two she fired them all. I’m serious. So is Susan.
“Anyway, so this old guy arrives at the Pearly Gates and immediately he sees two signs,” I said. “The first sign reads, MEN WHO WERE CONTROLLED BY THEIR WIVES. The old man looks and sees that this line is, like, ten miles long.”
“Naturally.”
“No comment. So the old man looks at the second sign. It reads, MEN WHO WERE NOT CONTROLLED BY THEIR WIVES. Lo and behold, there’s only one guy in this line. Slowly, the old man walks over to him. ‘Tell me,’ he says, ‘why are you standing over here?’ The guy looks at him and says, ‘I don’t know, my wife told me to.’”
I listened, and sure enough, a slight laugh could be heard on the other end of the line.
“What I’d tell you? Next stop, Letterman.”
“Mildly amusing,” said Susan. “But I wouldn’t quit your day job just yet.”
I chuckled. “Now that’s funny, considering this isn’t even supposed to be my day job.”
“Do I detect a little nervousness?”
“It’s more like apprehension.”
“Why? You’re a natural at this stuff. You’ve got an—” Susan stopped mid-sentence. “Oh, I get it. It’s because she’s a woman, right?”
“I’m just saying, it’s a little different, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. No matter who or what Nora Sinclair turns out to be, you’re the best man for the job,” she said. “So, when’s the big introduction?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Good. Excellent. Keep me posted.”
“I will,” I said. “Oh, and Susan?”
“Yeah?”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“I’m still not used to you and humility being in the same room.”
“I’m trying. Lord knows, I’m trying.”
“I know you are,” she said. “Good luck.”
Chapter 26
THE PINE WOODS Psychiatric Facility, a New York State- run institution, was in Lafayetteville, about an hour-and-a-quarter drive heading north from Westchester. Unless, of course, you were Nora in her new Benz convertible. Zipping along the winding, forest-lined Taconic Parkway at over eighty miles an hour, she turned up at the hospital a solid fifteen minutes sooner.
Nora found a parking space and put the top up with a single press of a button. Neat. She did a quick check in the vanity mirror and shook her hair back into place. No touch-up on the makeup was needed. She was barely wearing any to begin with. Then, for some crazy reason, she had a thought about Connor’s sister—the Ice Blonde. Something about Elizabeth bothered her. As if there hadn’t been closure between them.
Nora shrugged it off. She locked up the convertible—even out here in the boonies. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a simple white button-down shirt. Clutched under her arm was a bag from a bookstore. As she walked toward the entrance of the main redbrick building, there wasn’t another soul on the grounds.