Slice and Dice (31 page)

Unfolding it, she read out loud: “‘Message received? You could have been in that car, Marie. Leave town and stop your research. This is your last warning.’ Hmm,” she said, running her fingers through her long black hair. “Brief and sufficiently ominous.”

“Call the police.”

“No. Not yet.” She opened her laptop, set it on the desk, then plugged it into the wall. “Maybe in a day or two, but I have to be free to complete my work first.”

“I thought I was driving you to the airport this morning. Before I left last night, you made reservations to fly back to New York.”

“I canceled them. I’m staying here.”

She was so frustrating. “But it’s not safe!”

“Nobody knows where I am. And nobody knows what I’ll do next.”

“Have you set up another interview?”

She nodded. “Laurie Lippert. She was a housekeeper, worked for the Buckridges from ‘72 to ‘74. She may have been in the house the night Wayne died. If so, she’s the only one other than Constance and her brother who knows what really happened that night. I’m meeting with her at noon.”

“Where?”

“Elk River.”

“Oh, just… perfect.”

“Now what are you sputtering about?”

“If you’d made it for this morning, I could have gone with you. My program starts at one.”

“What a shame. I guess I’ll just have to muddle through on my own.”

“Why are you being so obstinate?”

“It’s part of my womanly charm.” She patted him under the chin, then lit another cigarette. “But I do need your help, my love. My car is parked in the Maxfield’s lot, but for obvious reasons I can’t use it. I need a second rental car, preferably in your name. Anything you can get me fast.”

“Actually, it just so happens that I have a friend who works for Avis.”

“You’re a godsend, Baldric.” She picked up the receiver and handed it to him.

“First you have to do something for me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”

“I want Sophie to read the interviews you gave me. It’s important that she know the kind of man Nathan Buckridge really is.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“What if she reads the material and goes directly to Nathan with it? It would be like handing Constance and her lawyers everything I’ve learned on a silver platter. They could destroy the evidence, buy people off, threaten them. No. I mean it, Baldric. That information is for your eyes only.”

“But what if she promises she won’t show it or even talk about it to Nathan?”

“You may trust your wife, but I don’t. And I think you’re being willfully blind if you don’t realize she’s still emotionally attached to that man.”

He stiffened. “You’re wrong.”

“Maybe. For your sake, I hope so. But I can’t chance it.”

Bram could understand her fears, but he also thought she was punishing him for not sleeping with her last night. The fact was, Nathan was a potentially dangerous man. The only way Bram could prove it to Sophie was to let her read the interviews. Marie might not like it, but it was his decision to make.

Sitting down at the desk, he tapped in his friend’s number at Avis.

“Come in,” called Sophie, hearing a knock on her office door.

Instead of staying upstairs in the apartment to spend the morning brooding, after breakfast she’d come down to her office to work on the article she’d promised Yale McGraw, the one on George Gildemeister’s career at the paper. Late yesterday afternoon the research assistant had finally come through with the information she’d requested. It had been faxed to the hotel and handed to her just before she left to have dinner with Nathan.

“Here’s that box you asked for,” said a young bellman, entering and setting it next to her desk. “And your car keys.” He dropped them into her hand.

“Thanks a lot, Elvis. You saved my poor back a lot of stress.” She’d ridden down in the service elevator with him. When she mentioned that she was on her way to the parking garage across the street to retrieve a heavy box, he suggested that he take care of it for her. Elvis was a bit of an apple polisher, but that was all right with her.

“Anything else I can do for you before I go?”

“Can’t think of a thing.”

He bent down close to her ear and lowered his voice. “There’s a guy milling around outside your door, Ms. Greenway. I think he wants to talk to you, but he seems kind of unsure of himself.”

“On your way out, ask him to come in.”

“Will do.”

A few moments later Nathan entered the room.

Sophie remembered what Bram had said to her last night, but she had to see Nathan alone. Besides, she didn’t believe he posed any threat to her — at least not the kind Bram was suggesting.

Nathan took a few seconds to get the lay of the land, eyeing the richly paneled walls, the oil paintings, and the broad windows that overlooked the formal garden. Finally, turning his full attention on Sophie, he said, “I didn’t know if I should bother you this early.” He seemed uncomfortable, as if the awkwardness of the occasion — the morning after the night before — had confused his arms and legs.

They both had to answer the same questions today. Who were they to each other now? Had something fundamental changed between them? Or had nothing changed at all? By the expression on Nathan’s face, she could see that he expected the worst, that her mood would be one of anger, shame, contempt, or just plain coldness. Perhaps he thought she wanted nothing more than to forget last night had ever happened. And yet a glimmer of hope remained in his eyes, too.

“Do you hate me, Sophie?”

“No,” she said softly, “I don’t hate you. But I’m not so sure how I feel about myself.”

“Did you tell your husband?”

“God, no!”

“Are you going to?”

“Nathan, listen to me. What happened last night… we can’t take it back, but —”

“I don’t want to take it back.”

“No,” she agreed. “I’m not sure I do either. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m married. And I love my husband. If I told Bram that we’d slept together, it would hurt him terribly. I don’t want that.”

“But you love me, too.”

Something in his eyes told her she needed to tread carefully. “I care about you, Nathan. And I’m concerned for you. I want to help you in any way I can.”

“You already have.” His serious expression changed instantly to one of excitement. “And because of you” — he moved restlessly to the windows — “I’ve made a decision. It represents a major turning point in my life. I’m going to have such an incredible surprise for you tonight, it’ll knock your socks off. Next to finding a woman like you to love, it’s probably the smartest move I’ve ever made.”

“Nathan, you’re not listening to me.”

“Sure I am. I know it’s complicated, but we’ll work it out.” He held up his hand. “But no hints about the secret, Soph. It’s not official, so don’t try to wheedle it out of me. When I get back to the hotel later today, we’re going to celebrate. We’ll both be walking on air.”

Sophie had never seen him so wired, so unable to concentrate on anything but his own thoughts. “Nathan, I won’t be able to see you tonight. Bram and I have a dinner date with some friends.”

Bending down to give her a quick kiss, he said, “Wish me luck?”

She wondered if he’d even heard her. “Of course I do.”

He kissed her again. “Later, babe.” He was out the door so fast, she didn’t even try to say goodbye.

Tossing her pen on the desktop, Sophie felt as if a whirlwind had just left her office, a storm that had blown some ominous clouds directly over her head. For the first time since she’d run into him last Saturday afternoon, it occurred to her that she had one hell of a nasty problem on her hands. His exuberance was so extreme that he was not only missing her cues but also her direct statements. Surely he could see how painful the situation was for her. She was hardly in the mood to celebrate, no matter what his good news might be.

Feeling at a complete loss, and more than a little concerned about when and where he might pop up next, Sophie returned to the feature story on George Gildemeister. She could easily spend all day worrying, but right now she didn’t have the time. Besides, it would only make her more tense than she already was. In the middle of the night, she’d made a firm decision not to tell Bram what had happened. All she could do was pray that he never found out. Until she’d talked to Nathan a few minutes ago, she felt certain she could trust him to keep their secret, but now that he was bouncing off the walls in his excitement about God knows what, she wasn’t sure of anything. Did he really think life was that simple, that making love was the same as a lifetime commitment?

Sophie struggled to remain focused. She finally finished the article around one o’clock. After calling up to the Fountain Grill to ask for a corned beef on rye and a side of cole slaw to be sent down to her, she faxed the final draft to Yale McGraw, explaining that if he wanted any editorial changes, she’d be at the Maxfield all afternoon.

She ate lunch alone at her desk going over hotel business. By two, she was ready to tackle George’s box of files. If her personal life ever got back to normal, she was really going to enjoy the change of pace, moving between hotel matters and her new job as restaurant reviewer for the
Times Register.
Bram had been so right last night. She loved her life: the hotel, the chance to work with her son. And Bram, as always, was at the heart of everything. It was beyond her how she could have endangered something so precious. She wasn’t the first human to make the same mistake and she wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first time she’d ever cheated on her husband and it made her feel sick inside. Why did she see everything so clearly this morning, when all week she’d been walking around in a fog of memories? Highly seductive memories. She just
had
to push it, had to play with fire. It was a quality she’d recognized in herself many times before, and it usually got her into trouble, but this time the trouble could end her marriage.

Tackling the box with a fury born of self-loathing, she grabbed a handful of files and began going through them. Unfortunately, George hadn’t had much of a system. The label might read, “New restaurants opening in May,” but inside the file there’d be one of his many seed catalogs or a receipt from a grocery store. Most of what she found ended up in the trash.

During the next couple of hours, she was interrupted almost constantly by phone calls. Yale faxed her shortly after four with changes he wanted in the article. She glanced briefly at his comments, then returned to the box. She was making progress and didn’t want to quit until she was done.

As she was paging through a bunch of George’s most recent reviews, she found a fax that caught her attention.

From: Office 404
To: GG
Page: 1 of 1
George: You ‘re on the right track with the acid humor, but crank the whole piece up a few more notches. Make your opinion
hurd
If you want the money, we want action.

 

It was unsigned. When Sophie glanced at the top of the page, she saw that it said:

May 3    B.C.A.    Fax No. 203-994-9320    Pg. 1

 

The B.C.A. part sounded familiar. As she thought about it she remembered that Nathan had used the same initials on Saturday afternoon. Buckridge Culinary Academy. But what would someone in New Haven, Connecticut want with a restaurant reviewer in Minnesota? Maybe there was another B.C.A.

First she called the operator and requested the area code for New Haven. Sure enough, it was 203, same as the one on the fax. She then called directory assistance and asked for the B.C.A. in New Haven. There was nothing like that in the computer directory, but the operator suggested it might stand for the Buckridge Culinary Academy, “an important school around these parts.” It seemed highly unlikely that there was another B.C.A. in New Haven. So if George did get a fax from someone at the academy, who had sent it and why? Again she could be wrong, but the message sounded like editorial feedback, as if someone was instructing him to make one of his reviews even harsher. It also implied that George was getting paid to write a negative review. The next question was, What restaurant review appeared in the paper shortly after May 3?

Without checking Sophie thought she knew the answer, but she had to be sure. Logging on to the Internet, she typed in the address for the paper’s website. Sure enough, George’s highly critical review of the Belmont appeared on May 7. Last Friday. It was also the same day the Buckridge family had checked into the Maxfield. Two nights later George was murdered, and Nathan was seen coming out of his apartment. There were simply too many coincidences for it not to be connected. But what did that say about Nathan? Had
he
sent George the fax? And if so, did he stab the poor man in the back on Sunday night and then leave him to die?