he again confounded public expectations by joining O'Neal, O'Connor and O'Neill, that sedate stable of blue bloods who shunned publicity, except for the occasional 'grip and grin' photo at a symphony party or a pre-Preakness event. Abramowitz had told reporters, affecting a Garboesque accent and the true wording of her
Perhaps he told the truth. Today he scuttled away quickly enough when Tess feigned recognition. She shrugged and pushed on into the hotel lobby, looking for Ava.
No luck. She checked the board of events to see if there was some conference she might be attending. It seemed doubtful, unless Ava had suddenly become a forensic pathologist, the only meeting listed. She called the front desk from a house phone, asking for Ava Hill's room. No one by that name was registered, a man's prissy voice told her firmly. She turned abruptly away from the house phone and collided a second time with Mr. Big Head, Michael Abramowitz.
Again Tess had to stop herself from smiling as if he were an old friend. Frightening, the intimacy television created with strangers. This time Abramowitz gave her a long, hard look. Tess wondered if he thought she was a chronic litigant, hurling herself into well-dressed people in hopes of a lucrative settlement. He said nothing, however, just turned and walked toward the elevator. He was an absurdly small man, except for that giant head, and Tess thought he must get tired carrying it around. Not even Rock's body could support such a gargantuan head.
The thought of Rock set off a series of small explosions in her brain. Abramowitz, Ava's boss. Ava. Hotel lobby. Abramowitz and Ava. Not in the lobby, but upstairs somewhere.
'But he's so ugly,' she said out loud, drawing a harsh look from a young woman sitting nearby, a baby in her lap. The baby, a little boy in a white lace gown and cap, was not, in fact, particularly good-looking. Tess turned away quickly so the woman could not see her face, red with mortification and laughter. When she had contained herself she walked back to the bank of phones near the entrance.
She considered what she had seen. Ava and Abramowitz. It was tempting to jump to the conclusion that they were here together on some illicit business, but what proof did she really have? For all she knew they were meeting a client in one of the suites upstairs, some Sims-Kever executive who still traveled in style, even as he cried poverty to his victims.
Pulling out the crumpled sheets Rock had given her a week ago, Tess dialed Ava's office and asked for her secretary. A woman with an English accent came on the line. Interesting touch for a firm founded by three micks, Tess thought.
'Miss Hill, please.'
'She's not available. May I take a message?'
Tess began stammering, which was only partly an act.
'Oh, wow, shit-I mean, sorry, but do you happen to know where she is? This is going to sound really spacey, but I'm this old friend of hers from, like, grade school, and we made these lunch plans and-would you believe-I forgot where I'm supposed to meet her. Could you check her calendar and see if there's anything that might give me a clue?'
The secretary sniffed disapprovingly, then shunted Tess into the vacuum of 'hold.' She came back on the line a few seconds later.
'Are you sure it was today? Her lunches are blocked out all month, from noon to two.'
'I must have
'No, nothing written down. Shall I have her call you?'
'What? What? I can't hear you. I must be in a bad cell.' Tess hung up the pay phone and picked up the house phone next to it.
'Front desk.'
'Hi, it's me in the kitchen.' She figured the front desk attendant wouldn't want to admit he didn't recognize the voice of a fellow employee. 'Hey, what room is Mr. Abramowitz in this week? I can't read it on the room service slip and you know how he is if his food is cold. He always threatens to sue!'
'He's in 410. And you better get it up there fast.
Not enough, Tess thought. Not enough information with which to ruin your friend's life. She took a deep breath and said: 'So he can have dessert by one, right?' She barely recognized the coy, snide laugh she produced on cue.
The front desk clerk snorted, then recovered. 'Just get the food up to the room. They're both here.'
Chapter 6
That night, Tess ran her hardest route.
She ran along Boston Street and into Canton. Past the expensive condos thrown up along the waterfront when Canton had been touted as the next hot neighborhood. It had never quite happened, so only a few high rises squatted among the row houses, Gullivers in Lilliput. It would be sweet, Tess thought, if the residents awakened one day to find their expensive homes staked to the ground, swarming with those who now lived in their shadows.
She increased her speed. Although the sun had gone down, it was still humid, and sweat poured off her. She had hoped a hard run would be cool and cleansing, but she felt sleazy and dirty, haunted by junk food and junk memories. The pizza slices and hot dogs of the past week oozed out of her pores, while her head was filled with unsettling images. She saw Ava pushing lingerie into her briefcase, saw the big head of Michael Abramowitz, floating on top of his tiny body like some unwieldy helium balloon, bouncing across the Renaissance lobby toward his assignation with Ava.
She had been right in her instinctive dislike for Ava, but she found little pleasure in being right. How had she failed to anticipate this moment? For Kitty had seen it all too clearly. From the first Tess had hoped Ava was up to no good and relished the chance to prove it, thinking it would be a good and lucrative deed to break up Rock's engagement. She had imagined what it would be like to trail Ava, and she'd come to enjoy doing it. She had killed long hours thinking about what she would do with the money Rock was paying her. But she had never imagined what it would be like to report back to Rock.
The thought of Rock's face made her run faster still.
She couldn't do it, not for any sum of money. But she didn't want to give up the money. And she wanted Rock to know what she had discovered, just not the responsibility of telling him.
There was only one way. Ava must confess, and Tess would have to trick her into it.
Back in her apartment, showered and dusted with talcum powder, Tess dialed Ava's number. A machine picked up. She started to hang up, then had a quick inspiration. She knew what could get Ava to pick up a telephone, assuming she was there and screening her messages.
'Miss Hill?' she asked in the high, almost too-clear tones of a young college girl, the type of voice that goes higher still at every sentence's end.
'This is Denise at Nordstrom? I waited on you the last time you were in? Well, I wanted you to know we are having a very special sale on Donna Karan, a two-day preview sale for very special customers, and I just wanted to give you the details? We're taking up to seventy-five percent off some of the fall suits?'
Ava picked up. 'Yes, I'm here. Do you have many things left in a size four?'
Stunned by the success of her plan, Tess realized she hadn't figured out what to say next. She fell back on the truth.
'I'm not a Nordstrom sales girl. I'm a private investigator-a kind of one, anyway, and I've been following you. I think it would be in your best interest to meet with me.'
Ava hung up. Tess called back and got the machine again, but she knew Ava was standing there, listening.
'I have some information, Miss Hill,' she said, hoping her voice sounded cool and experienced. 'Information about your…lunchtime activities. Information I plan to provide to my client if you don't meet with me.'
