Xs, An Allie Armington Mystery (23 page)

It’s Cliff, bearing a tray with a coffee pot and
cups, a bowl of fruit and a stack of toast with the usual
accompaniments.

He’s alone and from the lack of clicking locks, he’s
left the door open. If I were dressed, I could make a dash for it.
I make a mental note to make sure I don’t let the next opportunity
to escape pass me by.

He sets the tray on the ottoman. “Hale will be up in
a few minutes.”

“Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”

He settles on the ottoman next to the tray. “Depends
on the subject.”

“You shouldn’t mind my asking the obvious. Why does
she whisper?”

He studies me for a few seconds then shrugs. “She’s
talked that way for as long as I’ve known her. I once heard she was
playing goalie in a field hockey game and was accidentally struck
in the throat.”

“That certainly would explain it.”

He grabs a piece of toast. “That’s it?”

“No. Hale isn’t your mother, why do you call her
that?” “She’s my boss. What the boss asks—you do.”

He slathers the slice of toast with butter and
marmalade. “I’ve been with her for twenty-some years. It was she
who suggested I become a model’s agent. We used the business to
attract young women.”

He must see the shock in my face because he adds,
“Not Angela. I represented her on the up-and-up. In fact, I have
quite a few clients who aren’t prostitutes.”

“But why take the criminal route? You have
connections.”

He rubs his fingers together. “Money. When you’re
used to it and lose it—” He sighs. “We had the pedigree but not the
really big bucks. Dad’s brother took his inheritance and invested
it well. Unfortunately, Dad was a dreamer who never quite got it
together. We lived on the interest from his part of the estate
until I was around ten.

“That was when he squandered everything we had on
the only Edsel dealership in Hoboken. You remember the Edsel, don’t
you? He couldn’t face the consequences and committed suicide.

“My mother and I lived with my uncle and aunt until
her death. A few weeks after the funeral, I was politely asked to
come pick up my things.”

It’s then I see another Cliff. Not the effete,
well-dressed snob he seems but a lonely and disillusioned man who
wasn’t secure enough to make it on his own.

“So, how did you hook up with Hale?”

“There was some money left—not much—enough to get me
through college. After I graduated I mooched a room off an old
prep-school buddy.

“He told me about Hale. I visited one of her
brownstones for an evening of pleasure. We met and immediately hit
it off.” He pauses, then says, “Not in a sexual sense—strictly
business. I needed the income; she needed an assistant. Voilá.”

He takes a bite of his toast. “I handled all the
organizational work for Hale. God knows she needed it. But the deal
worked in my favor. I could work several days a week or cram it all
into the end of the month.

“Back then my life was my own. All that changed when
we bought this place. I’ve been on a choke chain ever since.” He
looks away. “But she’s promised me—” He gives me an emphatic nod.
“There will be compensations—big compensations.”

“But Cliff, everything connected to Sigrid Hale is
illegal. And that makes you an accessory.”

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Take my advice
and don’t play cute. Okay? Just do what she asks. If you do, you
just might escape intact.” He gives me a stare freighted with
warning, then mutters, “Some of the others haven’t been so
lucky.”

“What do you mean by that?”

I hear footsteps and Cliff shakes his head. “Just be
careful.” Hale is swathed in the same design as the one she wore
last night, with the same matching turban and gloves. Only this
costume is menopause red—definitely not her color.

I slide out of bed clutching my robe about me, and
rush past them. Since there’s no time for a shower, I throw on my
clothes and “replant” the transmitter. After a quick splash of
water on my face, a cursory brush of my teeth, and a swipe at my
hair, I’m back in the bedroom in minutes.

Cliff hands me a cup of steaming coffee and points
to the tray. “Fruit or toast?”

I shake my head. “Just coffee.”

I drain the cup, get a refill and nibble on a piece
of the cold toast. Then I realize Hale has been staring at me
through those stupid tinted pixie frames.

Finally she says, “What about the necklace and
earrings?”

No point in playing games. So, I give her what she
wants. “They’re in a safe-deposit box at the Chase Manhattan on
Eighty-Sixth.”

“Ahhh,” she says. “The key in your purse. We thought
that might be the case.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that no one can get in the
box except myself.”

“We’re aware.” Hale turns to Cliff. “You will
accompany Miss Armington to the Chase.”

She opens her purse, pulls out the Luger and hands
it to him. “It has a silencer. Use it if you have to.”

Cliff pockets it. “Don’t worry. I won’t have to.” He
turns to me. “Will I?”

IT’S A GRAY, RAW DAY, herald of the fast-approaching
winter solstice. I’m wearing Cliff ’s all-weather coat while he
hunches into a down-filled, knee-length parka to avoid the stinging
gusts of the latest cold front.

When we descend the front steps, I notice the
surveillance van has vanished from the utility area of the school.
That could either be good or bad depending on what Greene
knows.

Grateful for Cliff ’s silence, I go over my two
options: Once we reach Third Avenue I could easily bolt and seek
refuge. Cliff would be insane to draw a weapon on a crowded street.
But that means I would never get back into the townhouse. That
option is definitely out. Better that I play along. Just get the
jewels, give them to Hale and see what happens next. Besides, I
still have the address book to use as a bargaining chip.

When we arrive at the entrance to the bank, I put my
hand on Cliff ’s arm. “Hold on. Looks like there might be a metal
detector inside the front door. You’re armed. You could set it
off.”

He instinctively pats the pocket holding the
Luger.

“I didn’t think about that.” He cranes his neck
toward the entrance. “Maybe they don’t have one here.”

I stare at him a few pregnant seconds then say,
“It’s up to you. But, if that alarm goes off—”

He shifts his stance from one foot to the other for
a minute, then says, “But, Hale said not to let you out of my
sight.”

“Where in hell do you think I’m going to go? She
threatened my family. Remember?”

“I remember.” Cliff looks both ways. The street is
almost empty. “I don’t know—”

“Look, Cliff, it won’t be good for either of us if I
don’t get into that box. You’re just going to have to trust
me.”

“I suppose I’ll have to. Because there’ll be worse
trouble if we go back without the necklace and earrings.”

He gives me a gentle shove toward the doors. “Don’t
be too long. It’s freezing out here.”

Once inside, I hurry toward the safe-deposit box
sign-in desk. After the woman checks my signature, I produce the
key, and she leads me into the vault. In seconds I have the pouch
containing the necklace and earrings in my purse and make for the
nearest available phone.

Though all of Greene’s numbers were programmed in my
commandeered phone, I took time to memorize one, his personal
cell.

No answer. It’s been fourteen hours since Cliff
greeted me at his front door, but to hear the detective’s voice
asking me to leave a message brings a brief warm feeling that I’m
still connected to the outside world.

“It’s Allie. I met Hale. She lifted my weapon, and
my cell, then forced me to write the letter to you. There’s also
another bogus letter in the mail to my parents. Could you give them
a heads up and tell them not to worry?

“I’m at the Chase Manhattan on Eighty-Sixth to
retrieve the necklace and earrings from safe-deposit box fifteen
forty-two. Cliff is with me. He’s got a gun, but I don’t think
he’ll use it. I could run, but I still don’t have any concrete
evidence on Hale’s identity. I’m requesting another
twenty-four.”

I start to lower the receiver, then pull it back to
my ear. “Greene, this is urgent. I gave Mindy some instructions the
other day. I think they should be carried out immediately—like now.
I’m pretty sure all you need to get a court order is this
recording.”

I hang up and head for the glass doors.

Cliff, head bowed against the stinging wind, looks
up. “It’s about time. What took you so long?”

“It’s the new lock on my box. They must have had to
drill out the last one. Had a heck of a time with my key.”

We start back on Eighty-Sixth toward Third when
Cliff grabs my arm. “Wait a minute, I need to talk.”

I try to pull my arm away. “Not now, I’m
freezing.”

Cliff doesn’t budge. “Just listen for a minute, will
you? I want you to give me the pouch and walk away. I won’t stop
you.”

He’s offering me a way out. Only moments before I
had seriously considered doing just that. It’s like he’s reading my
mind.

“I’ll say we had a fight, I grabbed the pouch and
you bolted. That should satisfy Hale since she’ll be getting what
she wants. She’ll be mad as hell but so happy to get the jewelry
back that she won’t do much to me.”

“Why are you offering this?”

Cliff looks both ways, and even though no one seems
within earshot he takes a step closer. “You must have some idea of
what’s in store for you. Hale hasn’t roughed you up because she
wants those jewels, but once she has them, I don’t know what might
go down.”

I take a few seconds to think things over. As
tempting as it is, I’m in that townhouse with one mission—to expose
Hale. “I can’t.”

He gives me a puzzled look. “Why in hell do you want
to get in the middle of this mess? What could you possibly
gain?”

Then he starts patting my shoulders. As his hands
begin to trail down my back, I jump away. “Stop that!”

“Are you wired? Is that why you want to go
back?”

“How in hell could I be wired? I was out of your
sight for less than—”

“Jesus, you’re a stubborn bitch—I’m trying to give
you a break, damn it.”

“Then give me one. I’m coming with you whether you
like it or not.”

Finally he says, “Just remember I tried.”

IT’S ALMOST NOON by the time we make our way back to
the townhouse, where Hale is pacing the foyer like a caged cat.

She’s poured into a long, black fur. A second look
confirms my first impression. It’s Angela’s mink. How the hell did
she get hold of that? The last time I saw it, Kingsley-Smythe asked
me to leave it in his Mercedes the night he was murdered. I really
hadn’t given much thought to its whereabouts until this minute.

Hale holds out a trembling glove. “Give them to
me.”

When I remove the pouch from my purse and drop it in
her eager grasp, she wheels and hurries toward the dining room with
the two of us right behind her.

The near end of the glass-topped table is covered
with a black towel. Hale opens the pouch and the jewels tumble to
sparkle against the inky background. I suppress a gasp; the
diamonds and rubies are much larger than I remember.

Hale looks up at the two of us. “I never thought I
would see them again.”

She lowers herself into the chair at the head of the
table. “Cliff, take the chair to my left. And you—” She motions me
to the end near the kitchen door.

Once Cliff and I are seated Hale says, “The
Luger?”

Cliff shoves it to her. “There was no problem at the
bank.” Then he lies. “She was in and out in less than five
minutes.”

If I add this lie to his offer to let me escape, I’m
pretty sure I have an ally. A smirk twitches at the edge of my
mouth and I lower my head to hide it.

Footsteps rise from below. I look in the kitchen and
see Larry Templeton coming through the door to the inside
stairway.

Hale points to the chair on her right. “Have a
seat.”

“I parked on Ninety-Seventh and entered just like
you said. I don’t think anyone saw me.” Larry settles in the chair
across from Cliff. “I detest coming here. If we’re ever discovered,
it’ll be the end for all of us.”

Hale pushes the towel toward him. “Let’s get down to
business.” Larry extracts a jeweler’s loupe from the inside pocket
of his jacket, and after careful inspection shoves the jewels her
way. “They’re genuine. How did you get them back?”

Hale points at me. “They went to the Chase on
Eighty-Sixth, where she removed them from her safe-deposit
box.”

Larry jumps up. “You let her go to the bank? How can
you be sure she didn’t tell someone she’s being held against her
will?”

Hale waves Larry’s words away. “Cliff was with her
the entire time. He had a gun. She’d be crazy to try anything. Sit
down.”

He slumps into the chair. “Okay, okay. Maybe nobody
saw them. What happens next?”

“We proceed with my plan.”

“No!” Larry slams his fist on the table. “You can’t
go forward with what you have in mind. It’s the absurd meddling of
an old—”

Hale raises a warning hand. “Don’t push me.”

Larry’s mouth drops, then he recovers. “Think this
through.” He glances at me then back at Hale. “There’s no way you
can be sure that your—experiment will succeed.”

Hale leans forward. “But it will work. She’s young.
My tests are positive. The odds are definitely in my favor.”

“But, you can’t keep her locked up indefinitely.
They’ll come looking. You’ll be discovered. Ruined. Not the way to
end your days. Please. I beg you.”

“My mind is made up.”

“Unmake it. She knows too much. We should have taken
care of her when we had the chance.”

Hale stands and gathers herself to her full height.
“We will proceed. With or without you.”