Sidney Sheldon (8 page)

“Sit down, Mr. Kingsley,” Senator Van Luven said.

Tanner took a seat. The senator studied him for a moment. “Frankly, I don’t understand you.”

“Oh, really? I’m surprised, Senator. I thought I made myself perfectly clear. I feel—”

“I know how you feel. But your company, Kingsley International Group, has contracts for many projects with our government, and yet you’re challenging the government on the environment issue. Isn’t that bad for business?”

Tanner said coldly, “This isn’t about business, Senator Van Luven. This is about humanity. We’re seeing the beginning of a disastrous global destabilization. I’m trying to get the Senate to allocate funds to correct it.”

Senator Van Luven said skeptically, “Some of those funds could go to your company, couldn’t they?”

“I don’t give a damn who gets the money. I just want to see action taken before it’s too late.”

Corinne Murphy said warmly, “That’s admirable. You’re a very unusual man.”

Tanner turned to her. “Miss Murphy, if you mean by that, that the majority of people seem to believe that money is more important than morals, I regret to say you’re probably right.”

Karolee Trost spoke up. “I think what you’re trying to do is wonderful.”

Senator Van Luven gave each of her assistants a disapproving look, then turned to Tanner. “I can’t promise anything, but I will talk with my colleagues and get their point of view on the environmental issue. I will get back to you.”

“Thank you, Senator. I would be most appreciative.” He hesitated. “Perhaps sometime when you’re in Manhattan, I can take you around KIG and show you our operation. I think you might find it interesting.”

Senator Van Luven nodded indifferently. “I’ll let you know.”

The meeting was over.

F
ROM THE MOMENT
people heard of Mark’s death, Kelly Harris had been flooded with phone calls and flowers and e-mails. The first to call was Sam Meadows, a coworker and close friend of Mark’s.

“Kelly! My God. I can’t believe it! I—I don’t know what to say, I’m just devastated. Every time I turn around, I expect to see Mark there. Kelly—is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, thank you, Sam.”

“Let’s stay in touch. I want to be of help in any way I can…”

After that came a dozen calls from Mark’s friends, and from models Kelly worked with.

Bill Lerner, the head of the modeling agency, telephoned. He offered his condolences, then said, “Kelly, I realize this is not the appropriate time, but I think that getting back to work might be good for you right now. Our phone has been ringing off the hook. When do you think you’ll be ready to go to work?”

“When Mark comes back to me.”

And she dropped the telephone.

A
ND NOW THE
phone was ringing again. Finally Kelly picked it up. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Harris?”

Was she still Mrs. Harris? There was no Mr. Harris anymore, but she would always, always be Mark’s wife.

She said firmly, “This is Mrs. Mark Harris.”

“This is Tanner Kingsley’s office.”

The man Mark works—worked for.
“Yes?”

“Mr. Kingsley would appreciate it if you could come and see him in Manhattan. He would like to have a meeting with you at the company headquarters. Are you free?”

Kelly was free. She had told the agency to cancel all her bookings. But she was surprised.
Why does Tanner Kingsley want to see me?
“Yes.”

“Will it be convenient for you to leave Paris on Friday?”

Nothing would ever be convenient again. “Friday. All right.”

“Good. There will be a United Airlines ticket waiting for you at Charles de Gaulle airport.” He gave her the flight number. “A car will meet you in New York.”

M
ARK HAD SPOKEN
to Kelly about Tanner Kingsley. Mark had met with him and thought he was a genius and a wonderful man to work for.
Perhaps we could share some memories of Mark.
The thought cheered her up.

Angel came running in and jumped onto her lap. Kelly hugged her. “What am I going to do with you while I’m away? Mama would take you with her, but I’m only going to be gone a few days.”

Suddenly, Kelly knew who would take care of the puppy.

K
ELLY WALKED DOWN
the stairs to the building concierge’s office. Workmen were installing a new elevator, and Kelly winced every time she passed them.

The superintendent of the building, Philippe Cendre, was a tall, attractive man with a warm personality, and his wife and daughter had always gone out of their way to be helpful. When they had heard the news about Mark, they had been devastated. Mark’s funeral had been held at the Père-Lachaise Cemetery, and Kelly had invited the Cendre family to attend.

Kelly approached Philippe’s apartment door and knocked. When Philippe opened the door, Kelly said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Come in. Anything you wish, Madame Harris.”

“I have to go to New York for three or four days. I wonder if you would mind taking care of Angel while I’m gone.”

“Mind? Ana Maria and I would love it.”

“Thank you. I would appreciate it.”

“And I promise to do everything I can to spoil her.”

Kelly smiled. “Too late. I’ve already spoiled her.”

“When do you plan to leave?”

“Friday.”

“Very well. I will see to everything. Did I tell you that my daughter has been accepted at the Sorbonne?”

“No. That’s wonderful. You must be very proud.”

“I am. She starts in two weeks. We’re all very excited. It’s a dream come true.”

F
RIDAY MORNING KELLY
took Angel down to Philippe Cendre’s apartment.

Kelly handed the concierge some paper bags. “Here’s Angel’s favorite food and some toys for her to play—”

Philippe stepped back, and behind him Kelly saw a pile of dog toys on the floor.

Kelly laughed. “Angel, you’re in good hands.” She gave the puppy a final hug. “Good-bye, Angel. Thank you so much, Philippe.”

O
N THE MORNING
Kelly was leaving, Nicole Paradis, the receptionist at the fancy apartment building, was standing at the door to say good-bye. An ebullient gray-haired woman, she was so tiny that when she was seated behind her desk, only the top of her head was visible.

She smiled at Kelly and said, “We will miss you, madame. Please hurry back to us.”

Kelly took her hand. “Thank you. I’ll be back soon, Nicole.” And, minutes later, she was on her way to the airport.

The Charles de Gaulle airport was crowded beyond belief, as always. It was a surrealistic maze of ticket counters, shops, restaurants, stairways, and giant escalators crawling up and down like prehistoric monsters.

When Kelly arrived, the airport manager escorted her to a private lounge. Forty-five minutes later, her flight was announced. As Kelly started toward the boarding gate, a woman standing nearby watched her go through the gate. The moment Kelly was out of sight, the woman picked up her cell phone and made a call.

K
ELLY SAT IN
her airplane seat, thinking about Mark, oblivious to the fact that most of the men and women in the cabin were covertly staring at her.
What was Mark doing on the observation deck of the
Eiffel Tower at midnight? Who was he going to meet? And why?
And the worst question of all—
Why would Mark commit suicide? We were so happy together. We loved each other so much. I don’t believe he killed himself. Not Mark…not Mark…not Mark.
She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back….

I
T WAS THEIR
first date. She had dressed for the evening in a prim black skirt and a high-necked white blouse so that Mark would not get the idea that she was trying to tempt him in any way. This was just going to be a casual, congenial evening. Kelly found that she was nervous. Because of the unspeakable thing that had happened to her when she was a child, Kelly had not socialized with any men except for business reasons or obligatory charity events.

Mark isn’t really a date,
Kelly kept telling herself.
He and I are just going to be friends. He can be my escort around town, and there won’t be any romantic complications.
Even as she was thinking it, the doorbell rang.

Kelly took a hopeful breath and opened the door. Mark stood there, smiling, holding a box and a paper bag. He was wearing an ill-fitting gray suit, a green shirt, a bright red tie, and brown shoes. Kelly almost laughed aloud. The fact that Mark had no sense of style was somehow endearing. She had known too many men whose egos were involved in how elegant they thought they looked.

“Come in,” Kelly said.

“I hope I’m not late.”

“No, not at all.” He was twenty-five minutes early.

Mark handed Kelly the box. “This is for you.”

It was a five-pound box of chocolates. Over the years Kelly had been offered diamonds and furs and penthouses, but never chocolates.
Exactly what every model needs,
she thought, amused. Kelly smiled. “Thank you.”

Mark held out the bag. “And these are treats for Angel.”

As if on cue, Angel came bouncing into the room and ran up to Mark, her tail wagging.

Mark picked Angel up and petted her. “She remembers me.”

“I really want to thank you for her,” Kelly said. “She’s a wonderful companion. I’ve never had one before.”

Mark looked at Kelly, and his eyes said it all.

T
HE EVENING WENT
unexpectedly well. Mark was a charming companion, and Kelly was touched by how obviously thrilled he was to be with her. He was intelligent and easy to talk to, and the time went by more quickly than Kelly had anticipated.

At the end of the evening, Mark said, “I hope we can do this again.”

“Yes. I would like that.”

“What’s your favorite thing to do, Kelly?”

“I enjoy soccer games. Do you like soccer?”

A blank look came over Mark’s face. “Oh—er—yes. I—I love it.”

He’s such a poor liar,
Kelly thought. A mischievous idea came into her head. “There’s a championship game Saturday night. Would you like to go?”

Mark swallowed and said weakly, “Sure. Great.”

W
HEN THE EVENING
was over and they arrived back at Kelly’s apartment building, Kelly found herself tensing. This was always the moment for:

How about a good-night kiss?…

Why don’t I come in for a bit, and we’ll have a nightcap….

You don’t want to spend the night alone….

Fighting off the pawing…

As they reached Kelly’s door, Mark looked at her and said, “Do you know what I first noticed about you, Kelly?”

Kelly held her breath.
Here it comes:

You have a great ass….

I love your boobs….

I’d like to have your long legs wrapped around my neck….

“No,” Kelly said icily. “What did you first notice?”

“The pain in your eyes.”

And before she could reply, Mark said, “Good night.”

And Kelly watched him leave.

W
HEN MARK ARRIVED
on Saturday night, he brought another box of candy and a large paper bag. “The candy is for you. The treats are for Angel.”

Kelly took the bags. “I thank you, and Angel thanks you.”

She watched Mark petting Angel and asked innocently, “Are you looking forward to the game?”

Mark nodded and said enthusiastically, “Oh, yes.”

Kelly smiled. “Good. So am I.” She knew that Mark had never even seen a soccer game.

T
HE PARIS SAINT-GERMAIN
stadium was packed to capacity, with sixty-seven thousand eager fans waiting for the championship game between Lyon and Marseille to begin.

As Kelly and Mark were ushered to their seats directly above mid-field, Kelly said, “I’m impressed. These seats are hard to get.”

Mark smiled and said, “When you love soccer as much as I do, nothing is impossible.”

Kelly bit her lip to keep from laughing. She could not wait for the game to begin.

A
T
1400
HOURS
,
both teams entered the stadium, standing at attention while the band played “La Marseillaise,” the French national anthem. As the lineups for Lyon and Marseille faced the stands for introductions, a player for Lyon stepped forward, wearing the Lyon logo in the team colors of blue and white.

Kelly decided to relent and let Mark know what was happening. She leaned toward him. “That’s their goalie,” Kelly explained. “He’s—”

“I know,” Mark said. “Grégory Coupet. He’s the best goalie in the league. He won a championship against Bordeaux last April. He won a UEFA Cup and a Champion League the year before that. He’s thirty-one years old, six feet tall, and weighs a hundred and eighty pounds.”

Kelly looked at Mark in astonishment.

The announcer continued. “Playing forward, Sidney Gouvou…”

“Number fourteen,” Mark enthused. “He’s incredible. Last week, against Auxerre, he scored a goal in the last minute of the game.”

Kelly listened in amazement as Mark knowledgably discussed all the other players.

The game began and the crowd went wild.

It was a frenzied, exciting game, and goalies for both teams fought hard to keep their opponents from scoring. It was difficult for Kelly to concentrate. She kept looking at Mark, amazed by his expertise.
How could I have been so wrong?

In the middle of a play, Mark exclaimed, “Gouvou’s going for a flick kick! He made it!”

A few minutes later, Mark said, “Watch! Carrière’s going to be fined for handling the ball.”

And he was right.

When Lyon won, Mark was euphoric. “What a great team!”

As they were leaving the stadium, Kelly asked, “Mark—how long have you been interested in soccer?”

He looked at Kelly sheepishly and said, “About three days. I’ve been researching it on my computer. Since you were so interested, I thought I should learn about it.”

And Kelly was incredibly touched. It was unbelievable that Mark had spent so much time and effort just because she enjoyed the game.

They had made a date for the following day, after Kelly finished a modeling assignment.

“I can pick you up at your dressing room and—”

“No!” She did not want him to meet the other models.

Mark was looking at her, puzzled.

“I mean—there’s a rule that men aren’t allowed in the dressing rooms.”

“Oh.”

I don’t want you to fall in love with—

“L
ADIES AND GENTLEMEN
,
please fasten your seat belts and return your seat backs and trays to their upright and locked positions. We’re approaching Kennedy airport and we’ll be landing in just a few minutes.”

Kelly was jolted back to the present. She was in New York to meet Tanner Kingsley, the man whom Mark had worked for.

S
OMEONE HAD INFORMED
the media. When the plane landed, they were waiting for Kelly. She was surrounded by reporters with television cameras and microphones.

“Kelly, would you look this way?”

“Can you tell us what you think happened to your husband?”

“Is there going to be a police investigation?”

“Were you and your husband planning a divorce?”

“Are you moving back here to the States?”

“How did you feel when you heard what happened?”

The most insensitive question of all.

Kelly saw a pleasant-faced, alert-looking man standing in the background. He smiled and waved to Kelly and she motioned for him to come over to her.

Ben Roberts was one of the most popular and respected talk-show hosts on network television. He had interviewed Kelly before, and they had become friends. She watched as Ben made his way through the crowd of reporters. They all knew him.

“Hey, Ben! Is Kelly going to be on your show?”

“Do you think she’ll talk about what happened?”

“Can I get a picture of you and Kelly?”

By this time, Ben had reached Kelly’s side. The tide of reporters was pushing against them. Ben called out, “Let’s give her a break, boys and girls. You can talk to her later.”

Reluctantly, the reporters began to give way.

Ben took Kelly’s hand and said, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I liked Mark so much.”

“That was mutual, Ben.”

As Kelly and Ben made their way toward the baggage claim area, he asked, “Off the record, what are you doing in New York?”

“I’m here to see Tanner Kingsley.”

Ben nodded. “He’s a powerful man. I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of.”

They had reached the baggage counter. “Kelly, if there is anything I can do for you, you can always reach me at the network.” He looked around. “Are you being picked up? If not, I’ll—”

At that moment, a uniformed chauffeur came up to Kelly. “Mrs. Harris? I’m Colin. The car is right outside. Mr. Kingsley has checked you into a suite at the Peninsula Hotel. If you’ll give me your tickets, I’ll attend to your luggage.”

Kelly turned to Ben. “Will you call me?”

“Of course.”

T
EN MINUTES LATER
Kelly was on her way to the hotel. As they weaved through traffic, Colin said, “Mr. Kingsley’s secretary will telephone you and set up an appointment. The car will be at your disposal whenever you need it.”

“Thank you.”
What am I doing here?
Kelly wondered.

She was about to get the answer.