Every Breath You Take, page 21
She was relieved when he picked up. “I was afraid you would have left at five.”
“That never seems to happen, I’m afraid.”
“I have a question for you. Two of the guests at the Met Gala said they had sneaked into the American Portraits gallery on the second floor at the time Virginia Wakeling was killed.”
“It’s certainly possible. The guests have a hard time following the rules during that party. You wouldn’t believe how many of the celebrities think it’s perfectly acceptable to start smoking cigarettes—and sometimes other things—right in the middle of the party.”
Laurie recalled Tiffany’s description of sneaking upstairs with Tom: We slipped up to the second floor. No one was around. It was magical. We roamed all over.
“You said that most of the cameras were turned off because you use that night to test and update the equipment in the closed-off sections of the museum.”
“That’s correct.”
“One of the people who slipped upstairs said she and someone else roamed all around the entire second floor and did not encounter a single person. Is that possible?”
“Not likely. We would have had people up there working on the cameras while the equipment was turned off. Not a ton of workers, mind you. I suppose it’s possible someone could have gone up there undetected, but it would have taken quite a bit of sneaking around—hiding around corners, that sort of thing.”
“That’s not how this woman described it. She was very clear that they were meandering around the galleries, entirely alone.”
“No, if they were exploring the whole floor, they definitely would have come across multiple workers.”
“Got it.”
“It sounds as if you’re making progress.”
“I hope so.” She thanked him once again before ending the call.
All along, she had been convinced that the alarm triggered the night of the murder had to be connected to it in some way. The police believed that the killer or an accomplice had set off the alarm to create a distraction while the killer followed Virginia upstairs. But Laurie had never understood why someone seeking to create a distraction would have selected a spot in the middle of the fashion exhibit, where it would be difficult to slip away.
Now it was becoming clear to her what might have happened that night.
Impulsive, eccentric Tiffany must have gone to the fashion exhibit and taken the charm bracelet from the Jackie Kennedy display, triggering the alarm. When the police arrived—not because of the theft, but because of Virginia’s murder—they began asking guests to account for their whereabouts. Tiffany must have told Tom that she had stolen the bracelet and asked him to cover for her by saying they were together the entire time in the portraits gallery. That itself was a transgression of guest rules, but a “confession” to such a minor violation would protect her from suspicion if anyone noticed the theft of the bracelet.
Laurie supposed it was conceivable that Tom would have been willing to lie to protect a woman he barely knew, but he may have had a very different motive.
The cab came to a stop, and Charlotte hopped in to join her. She was prepared for the cold, bundled up in a navy-blue wrap coat.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked.
Laurie spelled it all out for her on the drive to Queens.
65
Tiffany Simon was reviewing the checklist for the wedding ceremony she was planning for the following night at a fire station in Brooklyn where the groom was a firefighter. The couple was named Luke and Laura, which reminded Tiffany of how much her grandmother loved her “stories.” Granny Molly was always saying that no soap opera romance could ever top Luke and Laura from General Hospital in the 1980s.
Tiffany had just finished putting together the script for the ceremony when her doorbell chimed. She looked through the peephole and saw a woman, probably in her late thirties, wearing an elegant navy-blue wrap coat.
“Hello?” she called out through the closed door.
“I’m looking for Molly? My name is Jane Martin. I’m a researcher for a book publisher.”
Tiffany opened the door. “Molly’s my grandmother. This is her home, but she’s in assisted living now.”
“Can I come in? I’m doing some fact-checking for a book we’re publishing. We’re having trouble verifying one of the author’s claims. It involves your grandmother.”
Tiffany stepped aside to welcome the woman into the house.
“Wow, this is incredible,” “Jane Martin” said, looking around in awe, as most people did when they first entered the living room.
“Full of memories of my grandmother’s amazing life,” Tiffany bragged.
The walls were decorated with photographs of Grandmother Molly with various celebrities and in her cabaret performances. There were at least a dozen of her favorite costumes on display, not to mention the miniature versions worn by an assortment of dolls placed on the chairs and end tables.
“Gran would be so excited that a publisher was here to see her!”
“I wish I could say we were doing a book entirely about your grandmother, but the project in question is a presidential biography. The author has collected a series of never-before-published facts about various presidents. As you can imagine, it’s not easy to verify the events years after the fact.”
“I’m happy to help if I can. Is this about the affairs she had with presidents?”
“Oh, so you know about them?” “Ms. Martin” asked.
“Gran was so beautiful that men fell head over heels in love with her, even three presidents.”
“Three? She must have been gorgeous!”
“Oh, she was,” Tiffany crowed.
Charlotte hoped “Jane Martin’s” next question would sound natural. “Did she have a favorite?”
“Jack Kennedy, of course. You can imagine why. He was gorgeous, too. At a fundraiser at the cabaret one of the hosts came over to her and said he wanted her to meet the President. One thing led to another and Gran and the President became involved. She knew of course that it would never last, but on her birthday he gave her a lovely charm bracelet. He said to Gran, ‘You are my charm.’ Can you imagine how she felt?
“Of course, we all know what happened. Gran never got over him, and then years later, someone got into her dressing room and stole some jewelry including the bracelet. She used to tell me how much she loved it, how it made her think of him, and how heartbreaking it was to lose it.”
“She must have been very young at that time,” “Ms. Martin” suggested.
“Oh yes, she was. And she was so beautiful that an Arabian prince proposed to her and so did the Duke of Wellington. And that was after three presidents.”
Gran must have been very busy, Charlotte thought. “When did your grandmother marry?”
“Oh, not until she was forty, but unfortunately, my grandfather never amounted to a hill of beans. Gran raised my mother alone, and then my mother and father were killed in an automobile accident, and she raised me. I loved to listen when she told me the stories about her wonderful, exciting life. Now she is in a nursing home, and I know it won’t be long before I lose her. The only thing I want is for her to be as happy as possible.”
“That’s a wonderful attitude, Tiffany,” “Jane Martin” said.
“Thanks to Gran, I live every day of my life as though it will be my last. So, will Gran’s stories be in your book?”
Charlotte felt guilty as she said, “I only collect the stories and turn them over to the writer. I’m sorry if you didn’t understand that.”
“If they don’t use her, it may be for the best,” Tiffany sighed. “The excitement might be too much for her.”
“So tell me more about that bracelet from President Kennedy.”
66
Carter was waiting when Penny arrived at the French bistro she had chosen for their meeting. Unlike the times that he had chosen a table at the back of the restaurant to avoid any chance of running into his family and friends, he was now seated at a window front table.
When he spotted her, he jumped up and threw his arms around her tightly. “Penny, you can’t believe how much I’ve missed you.”
All the anger and hurt Penny had felt over the years came to the surface. The waiter was at the table. “Black coffee please,” Penny said.
When he was out of earshot, in a low steely voice she said, “Carter, what new game are you playing now? You have the nerve to tell me you missed me when out of the blue three years ago you dropped me and never returned my calls. You had decided I wasn’t good enough to be part of the Wakeling family. You didn’t give a damn about how much you hurt me. I’ve had plenty of time to think. The fact is I should have dropped you. Ivan told me that I didn’t pay enough attention to my job when I worked for your mother. He was right. There were lots of times when I would come in late or leave early. And it was almost always to meet you.”
“Penny, I’m sorry.”
“You couldn’t be sorry enough. Just in case it never occurred to you, you’ve done me a big favor. You’re lazy. You complain because you’re jealous of your sister. She always worked hard; you didn’t.”
Carter was shaking his head.
“Don’t dismiss what I’m telling you,” Penny said. “I’ve got more to say. I’m working hard at a job, and I am going to be a success at it. And I have one last thing to tell you. I have come to the conclusion that you and your family aren’t good enough for me. How do you like that?”
There was a long pause. Then Carter, his voice low and clipped, said, “Now you listen to me.”
Penny realized that she was fighting back tears and reached for a paper napkin to stop her mascara from running. “There is nothing you could say that I want to hear.” She pushed back the chair and started to get up. Carter suddenly reached both hands across the table and grasped her wrists. She winced as he forced her back down into her seat.
“I’ll start by saying that you are exactly right. I’ve been feeling sorry for myself all my life. In the beginning my father used to take me around when he was having meetings to discuss projects. But I was bored. I went along because I had to. I didn’t like being told what I was going to do for the rest of my life. I didn’t work hard at it because I didn’t want it. Now, after I made a fool of myself during that TV interview, I finally faced myself. Everything you just said was true. But I’m going to change. I’m forty-one years old and I’m not going to waste another minute. For the first time I’m going to work hard at the company because it’s what I want. And there’s something else I really want and need.
“I’ve been missing you every minute of every day these past three years. I love you, Penny. I know I don’t deserve it, but please give me a chance to start over with you.”
Penny knew the expression on her face gave him his answer.
“Carter, I have one small problem,” she said.
“What is it?”
“I can’t drink my coffee when you’re squeezing both of my wrists,” Penny said, and they both started to laugh.
67
Laurie was waiting at the corner in Queens while Charlotte spoke to Tiffany pretending to be a book researcher. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, but it felt like hours before she saw Charlotte approaching her.
“How did it go?” Laurie asked. “Did she say anything about the bracelet?”
“First things first,” Charlotte said. “That house is like a trip to fantasyland. Outfits the grandmother wore in her cabaret days complete with dolls dressed in her getups.”
“Were you able to record her?”
Charlotte played the beginning of the recording to check the audio. It was crystal clear. Tapping on her phone, she said, “I’m emailing it to you right now.”
“You’re the best. What did she say about the bracelet?”
“Laurie, Gran the cabaret dancer lived in a world of her own and raised Tiffany telling her stories. It is obvious that most, if not all of them, are made up. According to Tiffany, Granny had affairs with three presidents, an Arabian prince, the Duke of Wellington, and God knows who else.”
“Did she say anything about John Kennedy?”
“Oh, he was Granny’s favorite, and this is where the bracelet came in. According to Tiffany, he gave her a charm bracelet exactly like the one he gave Jackie that was on the display at the Met. Supposedly he told Granny that she was his charm. Tiffany said it was a treasured symbol of JFK’s love. The bracelet was stolen along with other jewelry from her dressing room, and the loss broke Granny’s heart. Now Granny is in a nursing home, very sick and still talking about the bracelet.”
“Charlotte, that confirms everything. Why Tiffany might have grabbed it to give to her grandmother. And then when she realized she needed an alibi, she asked Tom Wakeling to cover for her. It’s the missing piece that’s been driving me crazy. I’m going to knock on Tiffany’s door and try to persuade her to tell the truth.”
“Maybe I should go with you.”
“No, I’ll be fine. It’s better if I talk to her alone, and I’ve kept you out long enough.”
A cab was coming down the street. Laurie hailed it, waited until Charlotte was in the backseat, then started walking the block to Tiffany’s house.
• • •
Tiffany was clearly surprised to find Laurie on her porch. “Is this about the thank-you gift you were sending? You didn’t need to bring it out here yourself.”
“No, I’m afraid it’s about something else, Tiffany. May I come in?”
68
When Tiffany invited her in, Laurie’s first thought was that Charlotte had not exaggerated when she described the house. It was stuffed with memorabilia.
“I have to start with an apology,” Laurie said. “The woman who was here wasn’t a book publisher. I invented her.”
Tiffany gasped, “That’s awful—”
Laurie held up a hand. “I’m so sorry. I had my reasons, and I can explain them later, but this is urgent. I know you were the one who set off the alarm in the fashion exhibit the night of the gala. The last thing I’m concerned about is that charm bracelet. I’m trying to find a killer.”
“How did you know—”
“I really don’t have time for that right now, Tiffany, and I wish there was another way I could have done this. You thought Tom was doing a favor covering for you that night, but I am almost certain you were also covering for him. I believe he was the one who killed Virginia Wakeling.”
Tiffany’s face paled as Laurie’s words took effect. “That can’t be possible.”
“I know. It’s hard to believe.”
“As for the bracelet, I knew it wasn’t valuable,” Tiffany said with tears in her eyes. “It was just when I saw it, I knew how thrilled Granny would be to have it.”
“I understand, but this is your chance to make it right,” Laurie said. “Will you confirm—to the police and on camera—that you weren’t with Tom Wakeling on the second floor after all?”
“I’ll get arrested. I know I will!”
“You won’t. I know the detective in charge of the homicide investigation. I’m sure they’ll give you immunity if you testify. Now tell me exactly how it happened.”
“I was so panicked that night when I heard the commotion and knew something was going on,” Tiffany babbled nervously. “I rushed back to the main party without getting caught. But by then the police had arrived, and they began asking questions. I was so scared. I told Tom what I had done. He offered to back me up with an alibi. We really had sneaked into the portrait gallery shortly after dinner and had a few laughs about the paintings. We hid when we heard some people coming . . . they were workers. Tom suggested we go back downstairs separately to reduce the chance of anybody noticing us. That’s when I went to get the bracelet. I was so grateful when he agreed to say we had been together the whole time. In a thousand years it never occurred to me that he had another motive. Oh my God! Do you really think Tom killed that poor woman?”
“Because of you Tiffany, we are a lot closer to the truth,” Laurie said. “I’ll straighten things out with the police and come out tomorrow with a camera crew. In the meantime, keep your doors locked and be sure to call 911 if Tom gets in touch with you.”
Tiffany’s face became fearful.
“I meant, just in case,” Laurie assured her. “He has no idea that I suspect him.”
She thanked Tiffany warmly once again, and waited until she heard the bolt of the door turn behind her before she walked away.
69
Johnny Hon was still behind the wheel. He had followed Carter Wakeling into Manhattan, down the FDR Drive, and crosstown to Chelsea. He watched as Carter parked on 21st Street halfway between Eighth and Ninth Avenues, then walked to the cafe around the corner.
Less than a minute later a woman went into the restaurant. From his parked car Hon studied her through binoculars. With her slender carriage and classic features, he recognized Penny Rawling. Because of her midnight-black hair, white skin, and radiant blue eyes, one of the detectives had nicknamed her Snow White.
When he saw her sit down at Carter Wakeling’s table, he slipped an official tag on his car and followed her in, taking a table in the far corner where he could observe them. He had interviewed each of them three years ago and did not want to make it easy for them to see his face.
Leo had told him that Penny was one of the witnesses who had provided new information that could possibly implicate Carter in his mother’s death. She claimed to have told Carter that his mother was planning to reduce his inheritance substantially.
Suddenly Penny looked down and began to cry. She pulled paper napkins from a steel dispenser on the table to wipe her face. An instant later Carter leaned across the table and grabbed her wrists.
Hon could not be certain what was happening between the two from across the room, but he was more than concerned now. He was on alert. It looked to him as if Carter might be pressuring or threatening Penny as a witness. She was afraid enough to cry in public. If she continued and Carter panicked, he might go further in his efforts to silence her.
