just complicate marmers so the first few calls are awkward. She forgets to demand a ransom. Second, Myron remembered Tito's 'chink bitch' call. How had he known Esme was there? Simple. Esme had told him when she would be there to scare the hell out of the Coldrens and make them think they were being watched.
Yep. It fit. Everything had been going according to Esme Fong's plan. Except for one thing.
Jack continued to play well.
He maintained his insurmountable lead through the next round. The kidnapping may have stunned him a bit, but he had regained his footing. His lead was still huge.
Drastic action was necessary.
Myron got into the elevator and headed down to the ground-floor lobby. He wondered how it had happened.
Maybe it had been Tito's idea. Maybe that was why Chad had heard two voices arguing. Either way, someone decided to do something that was guaranteed to throw Jack off his game.
Cut off Chad's linger.
Like it or not Tito's idea or hers Esme Fong took advantage. She had Linda's car keys. She knew what her car looked like. It wouldn't take much. Just a tum of the key, a quick drop on the car seat. Easy for her. Nothing suspicious. Who would notice an attractive, well-dressed woman unlocking a car with a key?
The severed finger did the trick, too. Jack's game was left in shambles. Tad Crispin stormed back. It was everything she wanted. But, alas, Jack had one more trick up his sleeve. He managed to land a big putt on the eighteenth hole, forcing a tie. This was a nightmare for Esme.
She could not take the risk of Tad Crispin losing to Jack, the ultimate choker, in a one+on-one situation.
A loss would be disastrous.
A loss would cost them millions. Maybe destroy her entire campaign.
Man, did it fit.
When Myron thought about it, hadn't he heard Esme voice that very viewpoint with Norm Zuckerman? Her Buffalo Bill analogy hadn't he been standing right there when she said it? Now that she was trapped, was it so hard to believe that she'd go the extra mile? That she would call Jack on the phone last night? That she would set up a rendezvous at the course? That she would insist he come alone right now if he wanted to see his son alive?
Ka-bang.
And once Jack was dead, there was no reason to hold on to the kid anymore. She let him go.
The elevator slid open. Myron stepped out. Okay, there were holes. But maybe alter confronting Esme, he would be able to plug a few of them up. Myron pushed open the glass door. He headed into the parking lot. There were taxis waiting near the street. He was midway through the lot when a voice reached out and pulled him to a stop.
'Myron?'
An icy nerve-jangle punctured a hole through his heart. He had heard the voice only once before. Ten years ago. At Merion.
Chapter 29
Myron froze.
'I see you've met Victoria,' Cissy Lockwood said.
He tried a nod, but it wouldn't happen.
'I called her as soon as Bucky told me about the murder. I knew she'd be able to help. Victoria is the best lawyer I know. Ask Win about her.'
He tried the nod again. Got a little motion going this time.
Win's mother stepped closer. 'I'd like a word with you in private, Myron.'
He found his voice. 'It's not a good time, Ms. Lockwood.'
'No, I imagine not. Still, this won't take long.'
'Really, I should go.'
She was a beautiful woman. Her ash-blond hair was streaked with gray, and she had the same regal bearing as her blood niece Linda. The porcelain face, however, she had given almost verbatim to Win. The resemblance was uncanny.
She took one more step forward, her eyes never off him. Her clothes were a bit odd. She wore a man's oversize shirt, untucked, and stretch pants. Annie Hall goes maternity shopping. It was not what he'd have expected, but then again, he had bigger worries than fashion right now.
'It's about Win,' she said.
Myron shook his head. 'Then it's none of my business.'
'True enough. But that does not make you immune to responsibility, does it? Win is your friend. I count myself lucky that my son has a friend who cares like you do.'
Myron said nothing.
'I know quite a bit about you, Myron. I've had private investigators keep tabs on Win for years now. It was my way of staying close. Of course, Win knew about it. He never said anything, but you can't keep something like that from Win, now can you?'
'No,' Myron said. 'You can't.'
'You're staying at the Lockwood estate,' she said.
'In the guest cottage.'
He nodded.
'You've been there before.'
Another nod.
'Have you ever seen the horse stables?'
'Only from a distance,' Myron said.
She smiled Win's smile. 'You've never been inside?'
'No.'
'I'm not surprised. Win doesn't ride anymore. He used to love horses. More than golf even.'
'Ms. Lockwood '
' 'Please call me Cissy.'
'I really don't feel comfortable hearing this.'
Her eyes hardened a bit. 'And I do not feel comfortable telling you this. But it must be done.'
'Win wouldn't want me to hear it,' Myron said.
'That's too bad, but Win cannot always have what he wants. I should have learned that long ago. He did not want to see me as a child. I never forced it. I listened to the experts, who told me that my son would come around, that compelling him to see me would be counterproductive.
But they did not know Win. By the time I stopped listening to them it was too late. Not that it mattered. I
don't think ignoring them would have changed anything.'
Silence.
She stood proud and tall, her slender neck high. But something was going on. Her fingers kept flexing, as if she were fighting off the desire to make fists. Myron's stomach knotted up. He knew what was coming next. He just didn't know what to do about it.
'The story is simple,' she began, her voice almost wistful. She was no longer looking at Myron. Her gaze rose above his shoulder, but he had no idea what she was actually seeing. 'Win was eight years old. I was twentyseven at the time. I married young. I never went to college.
It was not as though I had a choice. My father told me what to do. I had only one friend one person I could confide in. That was Victoria. She is still my dearest friend, not unlike what you are to Win.'
Cissy Lockwood winced. Her eyes closed.
'Ms. Lockwood?'
She shook her head. The eyes slowly opened. 'I am getting off track,' she said, catching her breath. 'I apologize.
I'm not here to tell you my life story. Just one incident in it. So let me just state it plainly.'
A deep breath. Then another.
'Jack Coldren told me that he was taking Win out for a golf lesson. But it never happened. Or perhaps they
