Mystery Heiress. Suzanne Carey

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СКАЧАТЬ No, Jake’s name hadn’t appeared in the news. And Detective Rosczak, whoever he was, hadn’t gotten in touch with her, because he didn’t know of her existence.

      She wouldn’t have a clue.

      It would be Sterling’s job to break the news. Brushing his teeth, he shaved and put on a crisp white shirt, a maroon silk tie, gray sharkskin slacks and one of his expensive but conservative cardigan sweaters. A few minutes later, with his thick white hair impeccably combed and an unobtrusive Patek-Philippe watch adorning his left wrist, he was taking the elevator down to the basement garage of his condominium apartment building and striding purposefully toward his maroon Lincoln Town Car.

      The LaSalle, a twelve-story brick-and-stone building dating from 1920, had been built in a style Sterling thought of as Mississippi River Valley Gothic. It had originally served as Minneapolis’s YMCA. In recent years, its sturdy shell and somewhat decrepit interior had been exquisitely restored to contain thirty or so smallish, extremely private luxury apartments. You needed a key to operate the elevator. There were no nameplates—just numbers—beside the theft-proof mailboxes.

      A child of the Depression era who’d grown up at a time when twelve stories constituted a fairly tall building, Sterling liked its cozy size, black-and-white terrazzo lobby, clubby woodwork and art deco details. He suspected Kate was similarly minded. Having moved around a great deal to avoid detection since she’d faked her death, she’d rented the LaSalle’s top floor several months earlier. It was divided into two penthouse apartments. Hers, luxuriously carpeted and decorated, boasted several skylights, a small fireplace and a sweeping bird’s-eye view of western Minneapolis and its adjacent suburbs.

      As he backed his Lincoln into an empty space at the curb and went inside, Sterling thought about the strange set of circumstances that had prompted him and Kate to agree on the extraordinary step of letting her family believe she had perished. Had they done the right thing? Or were they fools to think their scheme would help them flush out a would-be kidnapper or murderer?

      As yet, it had been spectacularly unsuccessful. For perhaps the thousandth time, he puzzled over the identity of the hijacker who had stowed away in Kate’s plane on her solo trip to a remote Brazilian village in search of a key ingredient for the Secret Youth Formula she was trying to develop for Fortune Cosmetics, then appeared in midflight to hold a gun to her head. The plane had gone into a nosedive in the ensuing struggle. By some miracle, Kate had been thrown free, to fall through the dense undergrowth, moments before it crashed and burned.

      In Sterling’s opinion, her attacker had been a killer-for-hire, in the pay of some unknown enemy. It was fair to say he’d probably never be identified. His badly charred remains had been taken for those of Kate by the Brazilian authorities. Meanwhile, having suffered a concussion, multiple fractures and countless cuts and bruises, Kate had been found and nursed slowly back to health by the natives of a remote Amazon village.

      Aware that someone had wanted her dead, and might try again if they realized they’d failed, she’d disguised herself when finally she was well enough to travel, and made her way back to Minneapolis with extreme caution. Sterling would never forget the morning she’d phoned, her husky voice laced with fear and umbrage as she whispered into the receiver, “I’m alive, Sterling. I’m alive. Don’t tell anyone.”

      Though he had a key, Sterling knocked at Kate’s apartment door instead of letting himself in, as he sometimes did, since he hadn’t taken the trouble to call first. Kate let him in. Clad in a red Chinese-silk bathrobe that flattered her small, slim figure and complemented, rather than clashed with, her upswept silver-streaked auburn hair, she clutched a mug of black coffee in one diamond-studded fist as she led him to the living room and a breaking news program on the television.

      “Sterling…come in! You’re never going to believe this!” she commanded, waving him peremptorily to a chair.

      The story that had captured her attention was the same one Jessica Holmes had caught the evening before and Sterling had scanned in his morning paper—expanded as more details and peripheral interviews became available. Unlike Jess, Kate had a strong personal interest in the case. Recruited by her many years earlier to act as a spokeswoman for Fortune Cosmetics, Monica had repaid the favor by conducting an illicit on-again, off-again affair with Kate’s husband, Ben, for years. Or at least that was what Kate suspected. Further, she had long sensed Monica to be a deadly personal adversary.

      “It’s Monica Malone!” Kate added. “She’s been stabbed to death!”

      Given a cup of coffee by the maid, Sterling scowled as a news commentator recapped the story. But he couldn’t hide his growing concern. If Jake was involved in some way, he’d find himself facing an extremely nasty situation.

      Kate hadn’t picked up on his worry yet. “So…what do you think of all this?” she asked, her color high, as the station took an advertising break. “You know I’m not the vindictive type…that I wouldn’t wish a rattlesnake harm unless it was about to strike. But I can’t help feeling that what happened to Monica is at least partly her own fault.”

      Sterling’s mouth failed to twitch with his usual amusement at her inventive turn of phrase. “I think Jake may have been mixed up in it somehow,” he answered.

      “What on earth are you talking about?” she asked in alarm, turning her penetrating blue gaze full force on him.

      As succinctly as possible, he described Erica’s call. “I’m just guessing, of course,” he said. “But it’s conceivable Jake visited Monica yesterday evening, and that it was he whom her neighbors spotted leaving the house shortly before her body was discovered. Otherwise, why would the police be looking for him?”

      Kate’s brightly lacquered nails dug into the arms of her chair. “You’re not saying he killed her, are you?” she exclaimed.

      “You know better than that.”

      According to Sterling’s retelling of his conversation with Erica, Jake hadn’t spent the night in the Lake Travis house, where he’d taken up residence after their split. Where was he, then? Had he made himself scarce for a reason? Kate didn’t want to believe it. The Jake she knew couldn’t possibly be guilty of harming anyone.

      “There could be any number of reasons the police want to speak with him,” she hedged.

      “Give me one.”

      “I don’t know…recent business dealings, maybe. He sold her that stock, remember, though God knows what his reasons were. No doubt there were meetings, phone calls. They’re probably combing the woodwork, hoping someone can give them something.”

      Sterling shook his head. “I don’t buy it. This feels like trouble to me…right down to the core.”

      It did to Kate, too. Her instincts in full flush, she was on her feet, pacing. “Damn that woman to hell…even if she’s probably headed there already!” she erupted. “She had her hooks into Ben for years. Now, as her swan song, she’s going to destroy my oldest child!”

      From Sterling’s perspective, it was incomprehensible that Ben had ever preferred Monica to Kate, even as a side dish. Despite her impoverished beginnings, Kate was a genuine thoroughbred. And full of fire still; he’d have bet his stock-market holdings on that.

      “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

      She wanted him to protect Jake. Run interference for him with the police. Keep him from doing something foolish. Much as she loved her son, she knew his weaknesses. If he realized he was СКАЧАТЬ