“I assume it was because you were handling the situation.”
“Handling the situation?” Diana said. “I’d just been beaten. I was no more handling the situation than they were.” And then it occurred to her how odd it was that Leana was there. “Was Leana alone?” she asked.
“She was with two men.”
“What did they look like?”
“That was a while ago, Diana.”
She stared at him.
“I don’t know,” he said. “A couple of brutes. Black pants, black shirts.”
Diana’s mind flashed back to that evening. The two men who burst into Eric’s bedroom were wearing black.
“When Celina called out her sister’s name, they led Leana away,” he said. “It was then that Celina said Mario De Cicco’s name.”
Diana leaned back in her chair. “Two years ego, Leana had an affair with De Cicco. She came to my office one afternoon and told me that she was in love with him. I’ve always liked Leana. And I’ve always hated how George treats her. I think she senses this. We aren’t friends, but over the years, she would ask for my advice, or she’d drop in to say hello. I don’t know why she ever confided in me about her affair with De Cicco, but she did. Maybe she needed a sounding board. She doesn’t have many friends.”
“Was De Cicco in love with her?”
“No idea,” Diana said. “I told her to stay away from him, but she wouldn’t listen to me, as if that’s a surprise. Leana doesn’t listen to anybody.”
“Do you think she’s behind this?”
“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Diana said. “Yesterday, Eric told me that he and Leana almost slept with one another the night of Redman International’s opening. He told me that someone must have tipped Celina off to them, because she walked into the room and caught them in bed together.” She was quiet for a moment. “If Eric thought that person was Leana, there’s no telling what he’d do to her-or what he did to her, for that matter.”
“Like threatening her?”
“Maybe.”
“If he did and she went to De Cicco for help, there’s no telling what he’d do to Eric.”
It sounded plausible, but Diana knew better than to work on whims. “It’s a possibility,” she said. “And that’s all we’ve got-a possibility. At the very least, George should know what we know.” She glanced at her watch. “Billy should be here in a few minutes. Let’s call George now.”
She reached for the phone just as it rang. Diana answered it. “It’s Billy, Ms. Crane. A Mr. Timothy Parker is here to see you. Shall I show him up?”
Jack followed Diana out of the room and down the winding staircase.
“You know Eric’s younger brother?” he asked.
Diana nodded. “He’s studying law at Yale. This summer he’s taking a course on constitutional law and I’ve been helping him over the phone with his dissents. Eric’s parents are in their 80s and Tim probably came in their place to tend to Eric.”
They moved toward the foyer.
“Why would he be coming to you?”
Diana shrugged. “Tim knows Eric and I were seeing each other. I’m sure he knows what happened to Celina and thought that here was the logical place to come before going to the morgue.” She sensed what Jack was thinking, and said, “Don’t worry-he won’t stay long. The moment he leaves, we’re calling George.”
There was a tap at the door. Diana wondered how she would comfort Eric’s younger brother when she herself hadn’t dealt with Eric’s death. Deciding there was no best way, she turned the handle-and stumbled back when the door was kicked open.
Diana tipped over a side table and went down like a ten pin. Her head cracked against the slate floor. Her arm twisted painfully behind her.
The man who stormed inside was not Timothy Parker. This man was tall and dark, his features chiseled, black hair gleaming.
As Jack rushed forward to help Diana, the intruder shut the door behind him and removed a gun from his inside jacket pocket. He pressed it against Jack’s forehead.
As cool steel met flesh, their eyes met.
Vincent Spocatti cocked the trigger.
Recognition flashed across Jack Douglas' face.
This man was Celina’s murderer.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The secretary tried, but couldn’t stop Leana as she sailed past the woman’s desk and stepped into Louis Ryan’s office. Her hair and clothes were wet from the rain now beating the streets.
Startled, Ryan turned from the windows he was standing at, faced Leana and waved away the secretary as she rushed inside. “It’s all right, Judy,” he said. “Leana’s always welcome.”
The secretary looked with annoyance at Leana, then closed the door on her way out.
Louis began moving across the room, toward his private bath that was behind one of the doors to his left. “You’re soaking wet”” he said. “Let me get you a towel so you can dry off.”
Leana ran a hand through her hair as she watched him go. She was still trying to forget the argument she had with her father, but it was impossible. She had gone to see her parents with the best intentions and in spite of her mother’s surprising embrace, she left with them shattered.
We’ll never be close, she kept thinking. He hates me.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t help find Celina’s murderer.
She knew her father had exhausted his huge network of contacts, applied pressure to where it would be most effective, but he didn’t have the kind of contacts she had. He didn’t have access to the enormous underworld of power that was available to her. Her contacts were among the most powerful men in New York.
“I’m sorry for barging in like this,” she called. “But I need to talk to you.”
Ryan emerged from the bathroom with a thick, pale blue towel draped over his arm. With a sympathetic face, he came over to where she was standing and handed it to her. “I’ve been trying to reach you since I learned the news,” he said. “There’s been no answer at your apartment or on your cell. I’m sorry for what happened to your sister, Leana.”
Leana patted her face with the towel. Later, she would tell him that he couldn’t reach her because had been in Monte Carlo, marrying Michael Archer. Now, there was something more important she had to discuss with him.
“Celina is why I’m here,” she said. “I want you to help me find the man who murdered her. You’ve got power, Louis. You’ve got contacts. Together, with my father, we’ll find out who did this.”
Ryan looked at her, but made no move to speak.
“I need you,” Leana said. “Please help me.”
Louis sighed. “You’re asking me to help George Redman.”
She expected resistance and was prepared for it. “In a way, I am,” she said. “But I’m really asking you to help me and to help my sister. If you won’t, Louis, then I’m afraid I can’t work for you. I won’t be at the opening of The Hotel Fifth.”
She handed him the towel, which he tossed into the bathroom. He shut the door.
“We both know that’s what you want,” she said. “I’m not stupid. I understand the situation. You want my presence recorded by the press. You want to make my father a laughingstock. Right now, a part of me wants the same. If you still want this to happen, then I’m asking you to help me.”
Louis’ eyes softened. “Leana,” he said, “regardless of how I feel toward your father, I would never have
