The Inheritance, page 4
Five
Harcourt Langdon had died the following day, and Allegra’s preferred private investigator had been searching for his daughter for the last three months. The investigator was a brilliant gay man she’d discovered many years earlier when he’d been following around one of her clients to find dirt to aid in an upcoming divorce. They’d struck up a friendship and began a working relationship that had lasted nearly twenty years.
The man in question, Noah Hampton, smoothed out a wrinkle in his pressed and starched red slim chinos as he gave his latest report. “Nothing so far. That kid just disappeared off the face of the earth. But,” he held up a finger after plucking a microscopic piece of lint off his thigh and dropping it onto the floor next to his chair, “I did have an idea. Why don’t we try to have her find us instead of the other way around?”
Allegra took a sip of her tea. The fact that he hadn’t turned up a single clue irked her no end. Because of the enormity of the estate, she felt it imperative that they use every tool available to locate the missing heiress. “I’m open to anything, Noah. What do you have in mind?”
“We take out half-page ads in every major newspaper in the country, asking Mari N. L. to contact you at an email address we set up specifically for that purpose.”
“Are you insane? We’ll have every nutjob in the country writing in to see what they’ve won.”
“Well, that’s why we leave off the middle and last names. Yes, we might have an overabundance of responses, but luckily, we have the funds for me to hire more people to sort through the responses and gauge their legitimacy. After that, we take DNA from all the ones who might possibly be Mari or whatever she’s calling herself now. You said Langdon left DNA to check against?”
“Yes, he did. What do you mean hire more people? People we can trust? I don’t want it to leak that we’re looking for the heir to the Langdon fortune.” Allegra sat back and sighed. “I can’t believe I’m going to so much trouble to help that bastard. May he rot in hell forevermore.” She felt like spitting on the ground to emphasize her point, just like her Noma always used to do, but the graceful, elegant woman she’d become recoiled at the thought. Only just.
Noah pulled on his earlobe, a habit he’d acquired whenever he was working through a problem. He was a handsome man, in a pretty boy sort of way. Bright green eyes peered out from under eyebrows plucked and sculpted until they resembled perfect brushstrokes on a canvas. Not a single jet-black strand of hair dared slip out of its assigned position as part of a deliberately casual surfer boy haircut. “How about we try it, and I’ll be the only one to sort through them at first? If I find something promising, I’ll bring it to you, and we can decide what to do after that.”
“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ll have a shitshow on your hands. And don’t use my name or the name of the firm, either. Use yours if you have to. Or make one up. If people see it’s a high-end law firm looking for Mari N. L., they’ll guess fairly quickly we’re looking for someone in regards to some legal issue, i.e., possibly a large inheritance.” She thought through all the possible ramifications. “And let’s start out smaller, say, a sixth-page horizontal ad with a bold outline. And include it in magazines as well.”
Noah made some notes and nodded. “Understood. Anything else?”
“No, just keep me updated daily on the responses you’re getting.”
“Will do.” As he stood, he indicated the door by hiking a thumb over his shoulder. “This assistant has lasted longer than most. She’s very businesslike.”
“Your point?”
“Not…very…” he groped around for the right word, and when he couldn’t come up with the exact fit, he settled on “…personable.”
Allegra rolled her eyes. “I don’t need personable. The woman has an eidetic memory. That’s good enough for me.”
“Eidetic? Have you considered having me do a background check before showing her too much of your business and personal records?”
She glanced up from the papers she was reading without lifting her chin. Her readers were perched on her nose, and she stared at him over their top rims. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”
“Of course not. Who did you hire to check her out?”
“Bryce Campden.”
His mouth dropped open. “You hired Campden over me?”
“You were out of town. Melissa came highly recommended, and he checked her out thoroughly.”
Noah snapped his fingers and cocked a hip. “Give me the file. If the woman does have an eidetic memory, then I need to be the one to check her background, not…” he pinched his lips together, “Bryce mud for brains, Campden.”
There were only a few people in Allegra’s life who were granted immunity when it came to impertinence. Fewer still whom she trusted with her life and all the attendant baggage, and Noah was one of them. With a sigh, she removed her glasses and set them on her desk. She rose and walked to the cherrywood file cabinets to the right of the door. It didn’t take long to find the correct file, and she pulled it out and handed it to him.
Before he took it, she snatched it back. “And if you don’t find any warning signs, you’re not getting paid. I refuse to pay double for work simply because something ‘might’ be amiss.”
He plucked it from her fingers and strode to the door. “Agreed.”
After he’d gone, Allegra pushed her glasses up higher and resumed her work.
For the next two weeks, Noah dutifully checked in with the number of responses they were receiving daily. It averaged around one hundred per day, and of those hundred, only one or two had the potential to be the person they were looking for. He followed up on those and quickly discarded them.
Late one Friday afternoon, Allegra had just pulled on her coat when Noah came charging into her office with Melissa hot on his heels. Her assistant pushed her glasses up on her nose and, with a worried look, blurted, “I’m sorry. He just ran to your door, and I didn’t have time to block his way or let you know he was coming.”
With a dismissive wave, Allegra growled. “It’s fine. Leave us. And close the door on your way out.”
When the door clicked shut, Noah lifted the laptop he’d carried in under one arm. “Got her!”
With a skeptical look, Allegra motioned him to the chairs. “How do you know?”
In answer, Noah opened the laptop and pointed to an email already sitting in an open window on the desktop. He read the words aloud as though Allegra was incapable of reading them on her own.
I don’t know what this is about but tell me where to be next Monday at ten in the morning. Mari Nicolette Langdon.
So many questions were running through Allegra’s mind that she wasn’t sure where to begin. She decided on the scattershot approach and expected Noah to catalog them all and answer in the order they’d been given. “Did you respond? Where did the email originate from? Can you find her from this? Good grammar. Dare we hope she’s somewhat educated? When did this come in?”
Noah answered without hesitation. “Yes, I responded, but not before I found the computer the email originated from. It’s at a public library downtown, not far from here, actually. I took my laptop and parked myself in a chair where I could watch the library’s computers. I gave her this address and told her to come to your conference room. I hope that was okay, and then I waited for someone to respond. I had a tracker on the email so I’d know when it was opened.”
He paused for breath, and Allegra snapped, “And?”
“And she opened the email, but from a different location.”
“Her response?”
“None. This came in shortly before the library closed. There aren’t any cameras on the computers, and they have so many people using them on a daily basis that there’s no way anyone remembered who had used that specific computer yesterday afternoon.”
Allegra took out her cell phone and called Phyla’s personal number. When she answered, Allegra got right to the point. “We think we’ve found her. Are you able to come to my conference room on Monday at ten o’clock?” She listened a moment and then, with more pique than she intended, told Phyla exactly what she thought of her response. “You have a private jet. Get on it and be here at ten. What? No, we can’t change the appointment. She saw our advert and emailed and asked what we wanted, and Noah, you remember Noah? My PI? Anyway, he emailed her back, telling her to come here at ten.”
She was silent a moment, listening. “We don’t know who she is. She used a public computer to respond and hasn’t used it since. Good. I’ll see you Monday, then.” She punched end and breathed in a sigh of relief. “We’ll still need DNA. I’ll have Dr. Leman here at ten.”
“How do you know she’ll even submit to a sample?”
“If she wants a fifteen-billion-dollar-plus inheritance, she most certainly will.” Little did she know how problematic those words would turn out to be.
Six
On Monday morning, ten o’clock came and went with no sign of Mari. Phyla was growing more and more irritated by the minute. She’d paced from one marble statue to the next, admired the Avant-garde artwork adorning the walls, and run her hand over the soft leather sofas and chairs many times over. Now, the elegant furnishings were beginning to make her claustrophobic. She checked her watch for God only knew how many times and was just about to storm out of the room when, at ten thirty-five, her personal assistant strode into the room.
Daphne immediately moved to where Allegra’s assistant waited at a long table and began whispering things into her ear. It was clear she was irritated by something, and since Daphne wasn’t prone to histrionics, Phyla called her to order. “Daphne. What’s going on?”
Daphne, a five-foot-six brunette with impeccable taste in clothing as well as protocol, turned to face her employer. Her slightly elongated eyes, which gave away her half-Filipino heritage, narrowed in what Phyla had come to recognize as an unconscious mannerism she displayed when she was proud of a task well done. “It’s nothing, Ms. McGuire. I took care of it.”
Allegra heard, turned toward the two assistants, and put her hand on her hip. “Took care of what, pray tell?”
“Well, I’m afraid I had to chastise your people for their lack of security. They let some homeless woman and her dog in past the metal detectors and were going to have her sit on one of the sofas in the lobby, in absolutely filthy clothes, I might add, while they cleared her presence with someone.” She crossed her arms irritably. “As if that sort of…” she groped for the right word, thought better of it, and then simply went with, “…person would have business with anyone in this building.”
Allegra’s gaze shot to Phyla. “Did you mention to your assistant why we’re here this morning?”
“Of course not. She has no need to know other than the fact that my schedule needed updated so I could be here at ten this morning. After I might add, I flew in from Paris late last night only to be stood up at this meeting that was so damned—”
Phyla stopped mid-sentence when Allegra took out her cell phone and interrupted her with, “Fuck” before growling at Daphne. “Was George there?”
Daphne raised her brows in confusion. “Yes, Ma’am. Security called him to deal with that woman, but—”
Allegra turned away from her and stuck a finger in her ear to block out her voice. “George?” She waited five seconds for a response and then said, “There was a homeless woman in the lobby earlier. Has she left? Yes? Well, then get her back and bring her to my conference room, or you and every person on my security detail will be looking for new jobs by this afternoon.” She punched off her phone and strode out of the room.
Daphne definitely looked bewildered and not a little frightened. Maybe her boss could get away with angering Allegra Saint-Germaine, but a personal assistant would never find another job anywhere in any sector if Ms. Saint-Germaine decided to blacklist her. She glanced at her boss, wondering without much hope whether Ms. McGuire would have her back should Ms. Saint-Germaine order that she be fired right along with those security guards.
Phyla noticed the worried look, raised one brow, and turned away.
Well, that answered that question.
Allegra returned to the room carrying a bottle of bourbon and two tumblers, which she set on the table. She poured herself one, motioned to Phyla with a quick jerk of her hand, and muttered, “Help yourself.”
It was early for Phyla to begin her daily round of drinks, but she was on edge about meeting the woman who was destined to be a thorn in her flesh for the next eleven years. The fact that the homeless woman might turn out to actually be Mari Langdon only added to her anxiety. With an irritated flick of her hand, she ordered Daphne to fetch her a drink.
Her personal assistant had long ago become accustomed to snapped fingers and wrist flicks from her employer. The humiliation of being treated like a specially trained dog was worth the price if it meant she could shadow the greatest real estate tycoon in the world. Daphne already had her real estate license and had begun buying and selling smaller properties because she fully intended to follow in Phyla’s footsteps one day. She hurried to the table, poured two fingers into a tumbler, and delivered it without delay.
The distant ding of an elevator arriving on the floor sounded just as Phyla took a long sip of her bourbon. One thing she appreciated about Allegra, the woman didn’t scrimp on either cheap whiskey or second-rate bourbon. Phyla had partaken of many of the best brands over the years and could credit Allegra with developing her rather sophisticated palate when it came to enjoying the alcohol that allowed her to get through the increasingly tedious and lonely life she’d created for herself.
Everyone in the conference room stared at the door to the outer offices, waiting to see whether security had managed to round up the homeless woman they’d kicked out at Daphne’s behest. Daphne felt a trickle of sweat running down her spine. She had no idea why this meeting should include that filthy vagrant, but she was praying to every god and goddess she knew that security had managed to corral her.
George, Allegra’s stocky, blonde head of security, stuck an arm in and gently rapped on the open door. “Ms. Saint-Germain? We found her, but I’m not sure—”
Allegra cut him off. “When I need your commentary, George, I’ll ask for it. See our guest in, please.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
He turned and motioned to someone standing just out of sight.
A woman in her thirties wearing a black wool watch cap, a dirty green parka, and even dirtier blue jeans followed a medium-sized red heeler into the room. She stopped and, moving her head from left to right, silently studied each person in turn.
Phyla hoped the horrified shudder that ran through her hadn’t been too noticeable. She had to work with this creature for the next year, after all, and she watched as a pair of intelligent, bemused amber eyes came to rest on her. The woman’s gaze traveled down to the surplice neckline on Phyla’s blouse that showed what Phyla considered a tasteful amount of cleavage. Those distinctive eyes never returned to her own, however, as the woman moved on to Daphne, who was doing a piss-poor job of hiding her disgust at the woman’s appearance.
Allegra was the first to break the silence. “Ms. Mari Nicolette Langdon, I presume?”
The eyes returned to Allegra before moving back to Daphne. “Actually, I haven’t gone by that name for years, but I believe I was called ‘that filthy fashion faux pas’ earlier, so perhaps you should call me faux. Or pas, if you prefer.” Her amused gaze left Daphne and once again stopped on Phyla before returning to Allegra.
Allegra glared at Phyla’s assistant, whose face went from a healthy pink to ashen grey under her scrutiny. Sniffing her displeasure, Allegra turned her attention back to Mari. “Yes, well, I apologize for that. We weren’t sure what to expect, and there may have been a bit of a misunderstanding when you first arrived.”
Mari pulled off the watch cap and scratched a mop of greasy brown hair. When she noticed the disgusted look Allegra was at pains to disguise, she shrugged, “Sorry. I’d intended to get a shower and a clean change of clothes before coming this morning, but last night I kipped in the alley next to that M building down the street so I could get here in time for my appointment, but the bitch who owns it doesn’t allow people like me to sleep there. The cops came and rousted me out, and since it was supposed to get down below freezing last night, I thought it’d be better to sleep in a warm cell anyway, so I punched him. I didn’t have time to shower and change after they let me out because I had to come straight here.”
There was no way Allegra wanted those repulsive jeans anywhere near the upholstery on the furniture, but she put on her best fake smile, trying to come up with a workable solution.
Luckily, Phyla stepped in. “I have a personal shower in my office suite. Since this,” she wrinkled her nose and indicated Mari with a wave, “is absolutely not acceptable, you can bathe there. I’ll send my assistant out to buy you some clean clothes, so perhaps you’d be a bit more comfortable, hmm?” She lifted her chin in Daphne’s direction.
That elicited a bark of laughter from Mari. “You want someone who dresses like that…” she pointed at Daphne’s six-inch stilettos and moved her hand up to include the black designer minidress, “…to buy clothes for me?”
One side of Phyla’s mouth twitched in amusement, but she quickly schooled her features before anyone noticed.
Mari glanced around the room again and tilted her head. “Besides, I doubt you wanted me here so you could clean me up and buy me clothes. And I have no idea who any of you are or what you want with me.”
