The Oldest Sin (12 page)

“Ah, you’re awake,” said Peter, breezing out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Lavinia gave him a half-lidded smile, hoping it conveyed just that right note of lasciviousness. ‘Take that silly thing off and come back to bed.”

He sat down next to her and gave her a long, lingering kiss. “Can’t, honey. I’ve got to get dressed. I’m supposed to pick up my rental car by nine. You’re keeping yours for a few days, right?”

The last thing she wanted to do was talk about rental cars. “I’m not ready for the day to start just yet.” She ran her fingers lazily across his chest.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I know. That’s why you love me.”

“I love you,” he said, his voice turning serious, “because you’re smart and competent. You’re not a little girl.”

“You left out gorgeous and sexy.”

He grinned down at her. “Funny, I thought I made that part clear last night.”

She could just eat him up.

“Come on,” he said, whipping off her covers. “You’ve got to get ready for your morning meeting.”

“Aren’t you joining me?”

“Of course I am. I’ll be there rooting you on.”

She swung her feet out of bed as he tossed her a robe. “I wonder,” she said softly, watching him slip into his crisp white shirt, “what the reaction will be to my little surprise.”

“I’m sure everyone will be as excited as you are. Everything’s all set. As soon as I got into town last night, I made sure the shipment had arrived. It’s all ready to go.”

“What would I do without you?”

He stopped buttoning his shirt and turned around to look at her. “Oh, you’d be just fine. It’s me you should worry about. If I ever lost you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

What a strange thing to say. “You’re not going to lose me, Peter.”

He stared at her a moment longer and then smiled. “Good.”

As Lavinia was about to make another comment, the phone interrupted her. “I’ll get it,” she said, leaning over and grabbing it on the second ring. “This is Lavinia Fiore.”

“Lavinia, hi. It’s Cindy.”

“Good morning, girl. Did you survive the reunion last night?” She noticed one of her red nails was chipped. She’d have to fix that.

“Yes… I, ah, think so. I called to ask if I could talk to you this morning before the meeting. I could come up right now.”

Lavinia saw Peter looking at the room-service menu. He no doubt wanted to order breakfast. “Um, I don’t think it’s a good time. Maybe later today. What are you doing for lunch? I’m on a panel until one, but we could do it late.”

“No, Lavinia. It has to be now.” She sounded extremely agitated.

“Why? What’s up?”

“I can’t talk to you about this on the phone. It’s … too complicated.”

Peter drew a finger across his throat. He wanted her to get off so he could place an order.

“I’m sorry, hon. It just won’t work for me now.”

“But, Lavinia —”

“Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t!”

“Cindy, just get hold of yourself, girl. What’s got you so upset?”

“It’s … something I’ve done. I can’t wait around for the other shoe to drop.”

Peter was standing now with one hand on his hip, the other poised over the phone, about to cut off the call. “I’m starving,” he mouthed, looking pitiful.

“We’ll have to talk about whatever it is later. Are you coming to the breakfast meeting?”

No response.

“Cindy? Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“So, are you coming or not? In case no one told you, we’re holding it in the Zephyr Club’s .private dining room. Sixteenth floor. South tower.”

“I… suppose.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”

“It’s just —”

“Look, if the meeting doesn’t go the full hour, maybe we can talk afterward.”

“But —”

“Go have some steak and eggs, Cindy. Live a little. It’s a convention. I’ll talk to you later.” Without waiting for any further pleas, she dropped the phone back on the hook.

“Thank you,” said Peter, immediately picking up the receiver. “What do you want?”

“Oh, just some toast and coffee.”

“Nothing else?”

“Maybe some orange juice.”

He placed the order. Picking up his keys and pushing his wallet into his back pocket, he said, “I’m going to run downstairs and see if they have
The New York Times
.”

“I’m sure you could phone for it,” said Lavinia, looking him up and down, once again admiring his taste in clothes. Today he was wearing dark slacks and a designer herringbone sport coat. Not that he wouldn’t have looked every bit as fabulous in dirty overalls. But Peter had expensive tastes. So did she. As far as she was concerned, they were a perfect match.

“Nah. I need to get a breath of fresh air. The food should be here in half an hour. I’ll be back before that.”

She followed him into the living room. After giving him a kiss goodbye, she stood in the doorway and watched as he got on the elevator. Before the doors closed, he called to her, “There’s something on the floor next to your foot.”

Lavinia’s eyes dropped to the white envelope. Her name was printed in large block letters on the outside. Since no one had knocked, she knew a bellboy hadn’t brought it up.

Returning quickly to the living room, she sat down on the couch and ripped it open. Inside was a piece of notebook paper. She read the words:

Dearest Lavinia,

I don’t like being stood up. I also didn’t like seeing the police posted outside the hotel last night, waiting for me to call. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you just yet, but, of course, I’ll have to do something. What have I ever done to you to cause you to treat me this way? I’m just a simple fan, someone who adores you from afar and wanted to get to know you better. Now I see that’s impossible. Nevertheless, you will be hearing from me.

Till then, Lavinia.

Morton “Oh, my God,” she whispered. In all of last night’s excitement, she’d completely forgotten about him. She’d filed her report with both hotel security and the police yesterday afternoon, and then she’d gone on about her business. The uniformed officer she’d talked to assured her the police would take care of everything. A squad car would be assigned to intercept him when he arrived at the hotel to pick her up. She’d have to come down to the station to file charges, but that would be the end of it. From then on, her lawyers could handle everything. She’d given the authorities a detailed description of what he looked like. The hotel representative and the police all sounded so confident, she’d walked out of that small conference room and hadn’t given it another thought.

Until now. This minute. She felt as if someone had slapped her across the face. How had he gotten in? Surely hotel security was keeping an eye out for him. Since he didn’t look like he belonged at the Maxfield, he’d be simple enough to spot So what had happened? If he could get to her door to leave a message, what else could he do without being caught?

Feeling more frightened than she cared to admit, she got up and moved unsteadily over to the phone. She had to alert security right away. Closing her eyes, she tried a few deep breaths first That always helped center her. Move her to a more rational place. She’d be damned if she’d allow some screwball to scare her into a state of inertia. She still had too much to do. Too many clues to follow and people to interview.

She’d simply have to be extra careful. Peter was staying at his parents’ home tonight. Since her new in-laws didn’t know about their marriage, she was remaining here. Tomorrow, after the last convention panel was finished, she’d join him in Edina to break the news. But until then, she was on her own. Which was just the way she’d planned it And Lavinia had no intention of changing her plans. Not even for Morton.

Sophie carried two mugs of coffee into the living room, glad that the new day had dawned mild and sunny. Her parents were leaving this afternoon for the first leg of their round-the-world tour. Since they both had a certain anxiety about flying — an anxiety Sophie shared — she didn’t want them to take off in bad weather.

Sophie set her mug down on an end table and then paused for a moment to watch her husband. He was standing next to the fireplace, his expression faintly wistful as he gazed out the window at a row of mums in the back garden. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was having second thoughts about moving to the Maxfield All morning he’d been unusually quiet To be honest, Sophie was having some second thoughts about the move herself. They’d lived in this house for almost seven years, picked it out together before their marriage, and closed on it two weeks after they returned from their honeymoon. Bram’s daughter, Margie, had lived with them until she’d left to attend college in St Cloud, two years ago.

Walking up behind her husband, Sophie slipped her arm through his and handed him the mug.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” he said, drawing her close. Kissing the top of her head, he added, “I just have to spend some time saying goodbye. I’ve loved living here. And you know me. I don’t like endings.”

She leaned her head against his chest and understood. “We don’t have to move.”

“No. It’s not that. I want to.”

“The space we’d be moving into is much smaller than what we have here.”

“That’s good. It will force me to get rid of some of the stuff I’ve collected over the past seven years.”

Not a bad idea, thought Sophie. Bram collected “stuff” faster than dust collected on her favorite cloisonné eggs. His study had become dangerously packed with all the “valuable” junk he couldn’t bring himself to throw away.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, ruffling her short reddish-gold hair.

“I’m wondering how big a Dumpster we need to order.”

“Very funny.”

The clock on the mantel chimed the hour. “Hey,” she said, pulling away. “We’ve got to be over to the Maxfield by ten.”

“We?” he repeated, looking confused. “I thought your parents didn’t need to leave for the airport until noon.”

‘True. But Lavinia’s planning a big surprise for the D.O.S.S. breakfast meeting this morning.”

“So?”

“We’re both invited.”

He took a sip of coffee and inspected the invitation for hidden meanings. “Why does she want both of us there?”

“She’s probably just being nice.”

“If you ask me, that woman’s a little too full of surprises for her own good.” He ticked them off on the fingers of his right hand. “First, a new husband. A complete secret to everyone, I might add. And thirteen years younger.”

“A woman can’t marry someone younger?”

“You don’t think thirteen years is a little much?”

She shrugged. “Men do it all the time.”

“Second,” he said dryly, ignoring the amused gleam in her eye, “during the reunion last night she casually lets it drop that an old friend of yours was murdered. Will she elaborate? Of course not. That would make life too simple. Not to put too fine a point on this, Sophie, but did it ever occur to you that your friend is a drama queen?”

“It takes one to know one.”

“Hey!”

“Look, she simply didn’t want to elaborate until she has all the facts.”

“Sophie, think. Someone doesn’t just let something like that slip. She did it on purpose. And she had a reason.”

Sophie held the coffee mug to her lips, thinking it over. “Like what?”

“How should I know? They’re your friends. Anyway, third.” He continued counting. “Lavinia has planned another surprise for this morning’s breakfast meeting.”

“I’m sure the Zephyr Club will serve us something fabulous to eat. When the meeting’s over, we’ll both take Mom and Dad to the airport.”

“My day off is looking better all the time.”

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport. The meeting could be interesting.”

“With Lavinia in charge, I have no doubt you’re right.”

Ethel chose that moment to peek her head around the doorway. A tennis ball rolled out of her mouth as she gave a deep yawn.

“Poor thing,” said Bram, watching her slump into the room and ease her old bones down on the rug next to him. He bent down to give her a pat. “She spent a good half hour outside this morning, watching the ants crawl across the cement. Exhausting work.”

Ethel smacked her lips. It was just another day in paradise.

“She won’t have any ants to watch when we move to the Maxfield,” said Sophie, frowning thoughtfully.

“She’ll survive.”