“Much better,” said Yuri.
They wheeled the cart into the hallway. The door closed, and Vladimir was gone.
Yuri tossed the bloody pipe in the corner. “We square now?”
“I never did hear Vladimir’s confession,” said Leonid.
“I just bashed my partner’s face in, and Brighton Beach still wants to hold Jessie Merrill against me?”
“Don’t worry. We’re fine on that score. I was just thinking that you worked him over pretty good, and he still didn’t admit it. He swears all he did is scare her.”
“So?”
“So, maybe he didn’t hit Jessie Merrill.”
“Which means what? Our viatical business is still on?”
“Sorry, Yuri. Too much heat around that. It’s over.”
“Damn it. Now whose fault is that?”
“Not mine, not yours. Could be nobody’s fault.”
“It’s always
Leonid shrugged. “You want to blame someone, blame whoever it was who killed Jessie Merrill.”
Yuri smiled thinly, as if it were a revelation. “You’re right. That’s exactly who’s to blame.”
“I’m always right. Come on. I’ll buy you a drink.”
They started toward the door, then Yuri said, “Hey, if you think Vladimir wasn’t behind the Merrill hit after all, you want to call back your men?”
He thought for a second. “Nah. I still say he’s rude.”
“King of the Kamikaze Club. No fucking class.”
They shared a little laugh, then Leonid held the door open as Yuri went back and switched off the spotlight.
55
•
Cindy hadn’t intended an ambush, but it was beginning to feel that way. Ever since Jack had told her that he was a beneficiary under Jessie’s will, she’d wanted to talk straight to the lawyer who had drafted it. She feared she might chicken out if she made an appointment, so she showed up at Clara’s office unannounced.
“Ms. Pierce is with a client,” said the receptionist.
“I’ll wait,” said Cindy.
“It could be a while.”
“No hurry.” Cindy took a seat in the lobby beside the big spider plant. It had long, beautiful leaves that seemed a little too perfect in shape and color.
She flipped through the entire stack of old magazines before the receptionist finally called and led her down the hall, past the main conference room. Cindy caught a glimpse of a monstrous white-stone table that wasn’t at all her taste. It had a nice centerpiece of dried flowers, however.
At the corner office, Clara stepped out from behind her desk and shook hands. Cindy had never met her, but the introductions had an uneasy quality that marked any meeting between two people who knew they would never, ever be friends.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Clara.
“Likewise.”
She offered Cindy a place at the end of the couch. Cindy seated herself, and Clara sat in the armchair facing her. Clara said, “I wouldn’t say I’m shocked to see you, but it is a surprise.”
“I’m a little surprised myself.”
“Did Jack send you?”
“No. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
Clara arched an eyebrow, as if the admission interested her. “Would he be unhappy if he knew?”
“That depends on what you tell me.”
“That depends on what you ask.”
Cindy scooted forward to the edge of her seat and looked her in the eye. “I want honest answers.”
“I won’t lie to you. But I do owe a fiduciary obligation to Jessie’s estate. If there’s something I can’t reveal, I’ll tell you I can’t discuss it. Fair enough?”
“I suppose it’s the best I can hope for.”
“It is. So, what is it that you’d like to know?”
Cindy took a breath. “I want to know…”
Clara waited, but Cindy didn’t finish. “Know what?”
“I want to know if my husband has done anything to find the child that Jessie gave up for adoption.”
“Has he done anything? You mean you don’t know?”
“We don’t really talk about it.”
“Have you asked him?”
“I told you: We don’t discuss it.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not here to talk about what goes on between Jack and me. Do you know what Jack has done to find the child?”
“Why would I have that information?”
“You were Jessie’s friend. You drafted her will. If I were looking for a child that Jessie had given up for adoption, you’re the first person I would talk to. Maybe you’d have some leads. At the very least, you’d know which blind alleys your friend Jessie had followed in her own efforts to find her child.”
“I have some insights, yes.”
“Have you shared any of that with Jack?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He hasn’t asked for it.”
Their eyes locked. “Will you share it with me?”
“Why do you want it?”
“As I understand it, everything Jessie owns goes to Jack if the child isn’t located.”
“That’s correct.”
“Then it’s important that we find the child. As Jack’s wife, the last thing I want is for him to inherit something he doesn’t really deserve.”
“The last thing you want is for him to inherit something from his old girlfriend.”
“Is there some reason I shouldn’t feel that way?”
“No. But the very fact that you’re here underscores the question: Why
“He does, I’m sure.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because he’s my husband.”
“Interesting answer.”
Cindy narrowed her eyes, confused. “Why is that interesting?”
“Jessie told me about a conversation she and Jack had right before the jury returned its verdict. She asked him why their reunion, if you will, hadn’t really blossomed into anything. Jack’s answer was like yours. He said, ‘Because I’m married.’”
“So?”
