“WE WERE only too glad to do whatever we could to assist in solidifying Mr. Parkerson’s reputation.” The head of Cambiare’s New York office offered Marc a coffee.
“And calling me in to spy on my brother was an efficient and practical way of backstopping your decision, right?” Marc noted.
The elegant man smiled coolly. “If anyone had the motivation to prove him innocent of these absurd charges…”
“Yeah, we’ve been over that ground. Where the hell is the insurance guy from the London office? I’ve got better things to do with my time…”
Like track down my head-strong girl friend and see what the hell trouble she may be getting herself into. Girl friend? Well, yeah. I mean, we were intimate. That must count for…
“I’m truly sorry. I was told he would be available today. He’s been a bit under the weather.”
“What does he look like?” Marc’s voice was sharp and his look intense. He had a sudden, startling thought.
“Wh… I… I’ve never met the man myself. We’ve only spoken on the phone. Short, compact, I understand. The London office sent a description ahead. I’m sure we could ask for more detailed information.”
Marc shook his head. “No, no. That’s fine. Have him get in touch with me as soon as he can. It’s important that we compare notes. Another factor seems to have entered the case and it’s getting a bit heavy.”
Short. Compact. Another dead end. Damn.
The director’s eyes grew large and his back stiffened. “Heavy? Do you mean violence? Perhaps it’s time to get the police involved.”
“And they will inform you they can do nothing until they are given more definite leads. The break-ins could be coincidence.”
“Break-ins? You didn’t inform us…”
“I’m informing you now. Somebody’s really hot to get his hands on something.” He gave a short derisive snort. “The cops would be thrilled to hear those specifics.” Marc stuck his hand out to leave. “Don’t worry. No, as a matter of fact, do worry. Tell your staff to keep particularly on the alert. I wish I could be more definitive, but I don’t really know more than that. I was hoping the insurance investigator might be able to add some information from his end.”
He shook the worried looking executive’s hand and left.
It was late afternoon Friday. The streets were crowded with chic Madison Avenue types hurrying to get away early for the weekend.
I’ve gotta bring this thing to a head soon.
Marc zigzagged easily though the sidewalk throng as he moved quickly toward Rockefeller Center. The insurance investigation firm was an international one. He should have thought about contacting the New York office before.
Your mind’s been on other things- Right. The delicate tint of blue veins under her perfect coral skin… The succulent moistness of her parted lips.He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Annoyed pedestrians side-stepped him.
He was in front of Tiffany’s. He needed to get away from all the rushing bodies to think. Marc wandered aimlessly among the spare, elegant showcases. In front of a particular one, he stopped and stared blankly.
“May I show you some engagement rings?” The smartly dressed saleswoman tilted an elegantly coifed head toward the array of sparkling jewelry.
Marc bolted from the store.
“MISS EMERSON, for heaven’s sake, pull yourself together. It is I!”
Amanda shoved herself away from the thug clutching her, ready to let loose with another bloodcurdling scream. She blinked. It was Mr. Wilde.
“I hardly recognized you,” he noted, stepping back to admire her appearance. He chuckled, quizzically. “And you obviously didn’t recognize me.” He caught sight of the shoes clutched in her hand and the expensive bag. And then the yellow emerald. “Good heavens, is that real? This is not the neighborhood…”
“It’s fake. What are you doing here?” Her heart was pounding. She shoved the shoes back on her feet and tried to resettle the slouch hat into some semblance of correctness. Had the scream rousted the big guy and Pink Dracula to come chasing her down? A few people were giving them wide berth on the sidewalk, but other than that her scream seemed only to have attracted momentary attention.
She dragged Mr. Wilde into a nearby coffee shop carved out of a dark corner of one of the reconverted eighteenth century manufacturing buildings prevalent in the area.
“Is something wrong, Amanda? You seem particularly on edge.”
“What are you doing here, Wilde?” Amanda asked sharply.
“Uh, coffee? Tea? You want a bagel?” A young man stood waiting at their elbows and she realized she hadn’t had lunch.
Wilde looked around perplexed. “A cappuccino, please. With a cinnamon stick, if possible. The young lady will take tea. Earl Gray. Bring milk.” He looked at her severely. “Miss Emerson, I need an explanation for your rather extraordinary attitude.”
“So do I, Mr. Wilde. What are you doing in this part of town?”
“Well, I say. That is a bit brusque. I shall assume you have your reasons for bordering on the rude. I was looking for an out-of-the way gallery that several of us had prior dealings with some months ago.”
“Pinks?”
“Yes.” His disgruntled face brightened. “Do you know the place? I can’t for the life of me remember where it is. The streets down here are as convoluted as…”
“What sort of dealings? And who?”
“Nathan had the bizarre idea we might be able to place some of our work. I told him I had no interest in such matters, but the others were quite insistent.”
“Who ‘others’?”
He smiled an understanding, benevolent smile. “It was long before you became a member of the class or I’m sure we would have included you. Although, it was all to no avail.”
“Who ‘we’?” Amanda sat her cup of tea down with a snap.
Mr. Wilde reacted to the sharp gesture. At Amanda’s look he hastened to answer. “Nathan and Christine. And the professor, of course.”
His mind slipped to another track. “You should know the professor has been quite upset at Parkerson’s accident. Blames himself. Rather overreacting, I should think. But nonetheless, he called me in quite a state and insisted I get down here and retrieve the drawings the rather strange proprietor had taken on assignment. Said he was insisting Christine and Nathan do likewise. I thought perhaps seeing you at work today might calm him. You know how fond…”
Amanda had to choke back a lump. “Oh, gee. Mr. Wilde, you don’t think he’s beginning to lose it, do you? He… he’s so fragile.” She should have gone to the office. Been there when the professor needed to talk to someone. He had always been there when she needed him.
Mr. Wilde sighed and sipped his cappuccino meditatively. “These last several weeks, have you noticed? He seems to be more distracted than ever. And then this dreadful occurrence at the League…”
Amanda sat up. “Mr. Wilde, what do you think of a private posing session? Just the four of us? I’m sure we could get Antonio this weekend. All to ourselves. His extraordinary talent. Just for us. Do you think that would please the professor? Get his mind off himself. Nathan, I think, would like that and Christine would, too.”
The large artist stared at her for a moment and then his eyes began to flick about excitedly. “What a brilliant, brilliant idea! Miss Emerson you are a life-saver. I’ve been wanting… The professor and I have often spoken of…” His jowly face was ablaze with enthusiasm. “Do you know, I have the most extraordinary… What do you think of costumes?”
“Do you mean dress up?”
“Yes! Like fifteenth century Florentines. With the proper paper and ink. Oh, I know that would excite the professor.” He chuckled, downing his cappuccino. “It’s certainly exciting me. Do you know how to get in touch with young Antonio? He’s absolutely perfect, you know.”