She breathed in warm, humid air that smelled fresh after the rain; held the still-folded umbrella in her right hand; and strode down Seventy-second toward the apartment building.
As she walked, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and called Jill at her temporary job. Since going undercover as Jewel, Pearl had a different cell phone and number, registered to a Jewel Karsdan. Lies within lies. Like life itself.
Seeing Pearl's number on her cell phone display, Jill answered immediately. 'Jewel? Is everything okay?'
'That's what I called to ask you,' Pearl said.
'Yes, everything's normal here. Other than the job's boring as hell.'
'Boredom we like,' Pearl said.
'If you say so.'
'Let me know if you leave early.'
'I will, but it doesn't seem likely.'
'Remember, your guardian angels are around, even if you don't see them.'
'I appreciate that, really.' A beat. 'It's so hard to believe all this. I feel like a character in some kind of mystery novel.'
'Tell me about it,' Pearl said and broke the connection.
She was almost to the building entrance when she saw a blond woman wearing a lightweight white raincoat emerge and trot gracefully down the shallow steps to the street. She was clutching a large black leather purse tight to her side. There was something familiar about her, but only vaguely.
She turned and walked toward Pearl.
As the woman drew closer, Pearl's flesh began to crawl. She'd seen the sketches and the morgue photos of Madeline Scott.
When they were twenty feet apart, Pearl knew.
This woman was Madeline Scott.
Pearl put on her poker face and hoped her heart wouldn't hammer its way out of her chest. She and the woman exchanged the briefest of glances as they passed each other. Pearl didn't break stride as she listened to the receding tap, tap of the new Madeline's high heels on the damp pavement.
The sound faded.
One thousand, two thousand, three thousand…
Pearl casually turned around and began to follow the woman.
Victor graciously lent the woman his umbrella. Of course, Victor went with it.
He and the woman shared the large black umbrella until the cool drizzle that had been falling all morning became a fine mist and then stopped altogether.
'We're here,' he said, folding his umbrella and smiling at the woman. Not that they'd had a common destination.
They and the rain had happened to stop simultaneously near a Village restaurant that had outside tables beneath a canvas awning. The metal tables and chairs were dry. Only a few of them were occupied.
The woman, a theatrical costume designer named Ruth Malpass, smoothed back her bouncy short brown hairdo, now limp from the rain and humidity, and took a closer look at the man with the umbrella. He appeared to be somewhere in his thirties and had regular, handsome features, eyes of an almost indeterminate color that seemed to reflect surrounding hues, and was nicely dressed in obviously expensive pleated brown slacks and a lighter tan pullover shirt with a collar. His medium-length brown hair was neatly combed. His wristwatch, she noticed, was a stylish and expensive Movado, and his shoes were rich-looking brown loafers.
Look at their wristwatch and shoes. That's what Ruth's mother had always told her. That was the way to judge a man's wealth and style.
Ruth had taken the advice to heart and it had served her well during her year in New York. A small, slender woman with large brown eyes and a long neck, she looked like a scaled-down high-fashion model. Ruth attracted plenty of men, and she preferred them to be at least solvent. If their watch and shoes were of good quality, usually so was their bank account. Not that Ruth was in it only for the money. But there were so many men to choose from, why not make money one of the criteria?
'Two of you?' a smiling waiter with a towel over one arm and a pad and pencil was asking.
'Definitely,' the handsome man said. He really did have a charming smile.
'Why not?' Ruth said, trying to match the smile.
The waiter ushered them to a table near the black iron railing that defined the outdoor section of the cafe and took their drink orders. Handsome asked for a Jack Daniel's on the rocks. It was early for alcohol, but Ruth again asked herself, why not? She ordered a whiskey sour.
'I'm Vlad Novak,' Victor said, offering his hand.
Ruth noticed the gold ring (not a wedding ring) and manicured nails. She shook his hand and smiled. 'Ruth,' she said.
'Got a last name?'
'We'll see.'
The charming smile again. She had to admit it got to her. The light was such that she could see her twin reflections in his eyes.
'Vlad's an unusual name,' she said.
'Short for Vladimir. It's an old family name, from when my grandfather emigrated here from Yugoslavia.'
'Isn't there a baseball player named Vladimir?'
'There is,' Vlad said. 'And a good one. Vladimir Guerrero.'
The waiter arrived with their drinks, and two vastly oversized menus in black leather folders.
'It's not too early,' Vlad said. 'Should we make it lunch?'
'We'll see,' Ruth said again. Trying to hit the right note and not sound too coy. She didn't want to signal any kind of a turnoff here. Testing, testing. She fully intended to have lunch with this prize that had fallen into her lap.
The waiter glanced at Vlad.
'Leave the menus,' Vlad told him.
Ruth's heart grew a few sizes.
'I'll give you time to decide,' the waiter said. He laid the menus on the table and retreated. Ruth got the definite impression he was rooting for Vlad.
Vlad lifted his glass, and Ruth mirrored his action.
They drank. Smiled at each other.
Ruth found herself flushed with a desire she hoped didn't show. She searched uneasily for words. 'Funny how things can just happen. I mean, you politely offered the use of your umbrella, and here we are.'
'Into each life…,' Vlad said.
'…A little rain must fall,' she finished.
Vlad widened his smile.
'And then,' he said, 'the sunshine.'
43
Pearl followed the new Madeline toward Columbus Avenue. The clouds that had produced rain were in the distance now, and the sun shone brightly. The day was beginning to heat up to summer intensity, New York becoming a concrete kiln.
Keeping well back from the figure ahead in the white raincoat, Pearl dug her cell phone from her pocket as she walked. She felt rather than looked at the keypad as she punched out Quinn's number.
He answered after the third ring. 'Yeah, Pearl?'
'I'm following the new Madeline along West Eighty-third Street, headed west toward Columbus.'
