But now for the hard part: a call to Gia. He dialed Nellie's number. After precisely two rings, Eunice answered with "Paton residence," and called Gia to the phone at Jack's request. He waited with a curious mixture of dread and anticipation.
"Hello?" Her voice was cool, businesslike.
"How'd things go last night?"
"That's none of your business, Jack!" she said with an immediate flare of anger in her voice. "What right have you got to pry into—"
"Hey!" he said. "I just want to know if there's been any ransom note or phone calls or any word from Grace! What the hell's the matter with you?"
"Oh… sorry. Nothing. No word at all. Nellie's really down. Got any good news I can tell her?"
"Afraid not."
"Are you doing anything?"
"Yeah."
"What?"
"Detective stuff. You know, tracing clues, following up leads. That kind of thing."
Gia made no reply. Her silence was eloquent enough. And she was right: Wisecracks were out of place.
"I don't have much to go on, Gia, but I'll be doing whatever can be done."
"I don't suppose we can ask for more than that," she said finally, her voice as cool as ever.
"How about lunch today?"
"No, Jack."
"A late dinner, then?"
"Jack…" The pause here was long; it ended with a sigh. "Let's just keep this businesslike, okay? Just business. Nothing has changed. Any lunches you want to have, you have them with Nellie. Maybe I'll come along, but don't count on it. Capisce?"
"Yeah." He had an urge to rip the phone out of the wall and hurl it out the nearest window. But he made himself sit there, say a polite goodbye, hang up, and place the phone gently on the table, right where it belonged.
He forcefully removed Gia from his thoughts. He had things to do.
2
Gia put the phone down and leaned against the wall. She had almost made a fool out of herself a moment ago when Jack had asked her how things had gone last night. She'd suddenly had a vision of Jack trailing her and Carl to the restaurant, and from the restaurant to Carl's place.
They had made love for the first time last night. She hadn't wanted their relationship to get that far this soon. She had promised herself to take this one slow, to refuse to rush or to be rushed. After all, look what had happened with Jack. But last night she had changed her mind. Tension had been building up in her all day since seeing Jack, building until she had felt it was going to strangle her. She had needed someone. And Carl was there. And he wanted her very much.
In the past she had gently refused his invitations back to his apartment. But last night she had agreed. Everything had been right. The view of the city from his windows had been breathtaking, the brandy smooth and burning in her throat, the lighting in his bedroom so soft it had made her bare skin glow when he had undressed her, making her feel beautiful.
Carl was a good lover, a patient, skilled, gentle, considerate lover.
But nothing had happened last night. She had faked an orgasm in time with his. She didn't like herself for that, but it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Carl had done everything right. It wasn't his fault she hadn't even come close to the release she needed.
It was all Jack's fault.
Seeing him again had got her so uptight she couldn't have enjoyed Carl last night if he had been the greatest lover in all the world! And he was certainly a better lover than Jack!
No… that wasn't true. Jack had been good. Very good. There had been times when they had spent the whole night—Nellie's front doorbell rang. Since Gia was nearby, she answered it. It was a messenger from Carl to pick up the artwork she had told him about last night. And there was something for her: a bouquet of mums and roses. She handed the messenger the artwork and opened the enclosed card as soon as the door was closed. "I'll call you tonight." A nice touch. Carl didn't miss a trick. Too bad—
"What lovely flowers!"
Gia snapped alert at the sound of Nellie's voice.
"Yes, aren't they. From Carl. That was Jack on the phone, by the way. He wanted to know if there'd been any word."
"Has he learned anything?"
Gia shook her head, pitying the almost childish eagerness in the old woman's face. "He'll let us know as soon as he does."
"Something awful has happened, I just know it."
"You know nothing of the kind," Gia said, putting her arm around Nellie's shoulders. "This is probably all a big misunderstanding."
"I hope so. I really do." She looked up at Gia. "Would you do me a favor, dear? Call the Mission and send them my regrets. I won't be attending the reception tomorrow night."
"You should go."
"No. It would be unseemly."
"Don't be silly. Grace would want you to go. And besides, you need a change of scenery. You haven't left this house all week."
"What if she calls?"
"Eunice is here to relay any messages."
"But to go out and have a good time—"
"I thought you told me you never had a good time at these affairs."
Nellie smiled, and that was good to see. "True… very true. Well, I rather suppose you're right. Perhaps I should go. But only on one condition."
"What's that?"
"You go with me."
Gia was startled at the request. The last thing in the world she wanted to do on a Saturday night was stand around in a room full of U.N. diplomats.
"No. Really, I couldn't—"
"Of course you can!"
"But Vicky is— "
"Eunice will be here."
Gia racked her brain for excuses. There had to be a way out of this.
"I've nothing to wear."
"We'll go out and buy you something."
"Out of the question!"
Nellie pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and dabbed her lips. "Then I shan't be going either."
Gia did her best to glare angrily at Nellie, but only managed to hold the expression for a few seconds, then she broke into a smile.
"All right, you old blackmailer—!"
"I resent being called old."
"—I'll go with you, but I'll find something of my own to wear."
"You'll come with me tomorrow afternoon and put a dress on my account. If you're to accompany me, you must have the proper clothes. And that's all I shall say on the matter. We shall leave after lunch."
With that, she turned and bustled away toward the library. Gia was filled with a mixture of affection and annoyance. Once again she had been outflanked by the old lady from London.
3
Jack walked in the main entrance of the Waldorf at six precisely and went up the steps to the bustling lobby. It had been a hectic day but he had managed to get here on time.
He had arranged for analysis of the contents of the bottle he had found in Grace's room, then had gone down to the streets and looked up every shady character he knew—and he knew more than he cared to count. There was no talk anywhere about anybody snatching a rich old lady. By late afternoon he was drenched with sweat and feeling gritty all over. He had showered, shaved, dressed, and cabbed over to Park Avenue.
Jack had never had a reason to go to the Waldorf before so he didn't know what to expect from this Peacock Alley where Kolabati wanted to meet him. To be safe, he had invested in a lightweight cream-colored suit and a pinkish shirt and paisley tie to go with it—at least the salesman said they went with it. He thought at first he might be overdoing it, then figured it would be hard to overdress for the Waldorf. From his brief conversation with Kolabati he sensed she would be dressed to the nines.
Jack absorbed the sights and sounds of the lobby as he walked through it. All races, all nationalities, all ages, shapes, and sizes milled or sat about. To his left, behind a low railing and an arch, people sat drinking at small tables. He walked over and saw a little oval sign that read "Peacock Alley."