Manolos in Manhattan (37 page)

Chapter Sixty-Four

Holly thrust on a large pair of sunglasses and left the townhouse via the rear entrance. She hurried down the alley that separated the buildings, past the crowd of reporters gathered by the front steps, and kept her head down. She nearly made it.

Halfway to her car, someone recognized her and gave a shout. She leapt in the Jetta and slammed the door. Thrusting the key in the ignition with a badly shaking hand, she pulled away from the curb with a squeal of tires.

How does Ciaran stand it?
she wondered. She headed to Brooklyn and Chaz’s place (after eluding a persistent reporter who tailed her all the way to Queens in a beat-up Honda Civic).

When she finally arrived, Chaz was less than sympathetic. “What did you expect?” he said with a shrug, echoing her father’s words. “Ciaran is famous. And so are you, now.” He raised his brow. “Get used to it.”

Dismay colored her words. “I thought you’d understand.”

“Oh, I do. Klaus is famous, too, after all. I just don’t understand what
you
expected.”

“Not – not all this!” she cried, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I had no idea our engagement would turn into such a-a media circus!”

Chaz sighed. “Look, you have to try and stay under the radar, Holly, like Klaus and me, or else,” he reached around her to grab his phone “you’ll go nuts. Learn to live with it. This is what your life will
be
like from now on. If it’s not what you want…” He eyed her with barely concealed pity. “Then you’d better tell Ciaran, and break it off now...before it’s too late.”

On Tuesday night, Hugh and Holly were once again the only two left in the office. The Dashwood and James costume party was just a few days away. Coco had ordered costumes for all of the store employees from a local theatrical shop.

And of course, she’d left the boxes – all three of them, all huge – stacked on the floor next to Holly’s desk, waiting to be sorted and handed out.

“Be sure everyone tries on their costumes,” Coco instructed Holly before she left. “I’ve left a list of who gets what. We’ll need to return any that don’t fit and get replacements.”

Holly scowled. By “we,” Coco meant
her
.

With a muttered curse she stood up and ripped open the first box, breaking a nail in the process. Inside she found a jumble of costumes. There were outfits for a male and female vampire; a devil; a cat, complete with a tail and black-velvet flocked ears; and an assortment of accessories and wigs.

And that was just the first box. It would take half the night just to sort through them all.

“Do you need help?”

Holly looked up, startled. Hugh stood just outside her door. His raincoat was draped over one arm and his briefcase was in hand.

“Oh. No, thank you, Mr Darcy, I can manage,” she said stiffly. “You’re leaving, anyway.”

“I can stay. If you want me to, that is.”

Holly hesitated. She really
did
need his help...

He turned to go. “Goodnight, Miss James.”

“No, wait,” she said. “I’d really appreciate your help.”

Two hours later, they’d sorted out the last costume – a black and white striped jailbird’s jumpsuit and cap – when Holly flung herself onto her chair.

“That was the last one,” she said, and eyed her cubicle. “It looks like someone threw up Halloween in here.”

Although Hugh’s face remained expressionless, his dark eyes held amusement. “It does. And you’re right ‒ I think Coco really does have it in for you.”

“She’s the personification of evil,” Holly grumbled, and yawned. “I’m tired. I need caffeine. Want some coffee?”

It was his turn to look startled. “Yes. Yes, that’s a good idea. Let me just grab my raincoat…”

“No, I meant a cup of coffee from the kitchen.”

Hugh paused. “Ah, you mean a cup of swill. Yes, thanks.”

“How do you take your swill?” she called out over her shoulder as she went down the hall to the tiny kitchenette.

“Milk, no sugar.”

A few minutes later she returned with their coffees. “I knew you were a ‘milk, no sugar’ bloke,” she said as she handed him his cup, and sat back down at her desk.

He took a tentative sip and grimaced. “How could you possibly know that?”

She shrugged. “Just a feeling, that’s all.”

“By the way,” he said after a moment, “I believe congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.” Holly sipped her coffee and added, “Will you add your disapproval of the engagement to everyone else’s, Mr Darcy?”

“I think it’s a bit sudden,” he said, his expression guarded. “And it’s no secret I don’t have much use for Duncan. But if you’re happy…” He paused. “Then I’m happy for you.”

It was typical of him, Holly thought – always so formal, every word chosen with great care, like a bloody politician.

“Hugh,” she ventured, choosing her own words carefully, “Ciaran mentioned that you knew each other at Oxford.”

A wary look settled on his face. “We did, yes. We studied Drama together.”

“He also said that you knew his sister, Jane.”

“I did. Nice girl, especially when one considers Ciaran’s her brother.” He paused. “We went out a few times, but it didn’t last. We wanted different things.”

“Yes,” she said, an edge to her voice, “so I heard. I must say I’m surprised at you, Mr Darcy. I never imagined you to be quite so...heartless.”

“
Heartless
? What in God’s name do you mean by that?” he demanded, and set his cup abruptly down. “What else has he told you?”

Before she could recount the entire, sordid story –
as if he didn’t know
– Darcy’s mobile phone buzzed.

“Excuse me,” he apologized as he glanced at the screen, “it’s my father. I’ve been expecting his call.”

“No problem, I need to go anyway.” Holly picked up her coffee cup and tossed it in the trash bin. “It’s a long drive back to Brooklyn.”

On Wednesday Holly arranged to meet Natalie at Riverside Park for a lunchtime walk.

“I’ve taken in far too many calories at all those posh restaurants Ciaran insists on taking me to,” she sighed as she tied her shoelaces and thrust her heels in her backpack. “I need exercise. Desperately.”

“Tell me about it. I’m getting more enormous every day. But,” Natalie said as she patted her stomach, “I have a good excuse.”

“You’re due soon, aren’t you?”

“Less than a month.” She paused. “How is he?” she asked as they began walking. “How’s Ciaran?”

“He’s great, really good. I guess,” Holly added, and sighed.

“You
guess
? Haven’t you seen him, then?”

She shook her head. “No. He’s taping his talk show, so he’s at the studio from early morning until late. We text, though.”

“Oh. Well, it won’t always be like this,” Nat reassured her.

But they both knew that it probably would.

“Do you think,” Natalie ventured a few minutes later, as a fine sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, “that perhaps your engagement to Ciaran’s been a bit – sudden?”

Holly glanced over at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you and Jamie broke up, and you gave him his ring back, and then you announced your engagement to Ciaran a few weeks later. Are you sure you aren’t – possibly ‒ on the rebound?”

Holly came to a stop. “Oh, Nat – not you, too.”

“I can’t help but wonder if you’ve given it enough thought. He’s romanced you, and wined and dined you in style, no question of that...but really, you hardly know him.”

“I know I love him.” Her words were short. “And he loves me. That’s
all
I need to know.”

They finished the rest of their walk in silence.

Chapter Sixty-Five

“Don’t forget, the costume party’s tonight,” Rhys reminded Natalie on Saturday morning. “So I’ll be late getting home.” He kissed her and headed to the door. “But not
too
late.”

“Don’t forget your umbrella, darling.”

He lifted his briefcase. “It’s in here. I’ll take it out when I get downstairs. It’s raining cats and dogs.”

“Don’t step in a poodle,” Natalie said automatically. It was a silly old joke, but one they shared whenever it rained.

She kissed him goodbye as he opened the door. “Only two more days until the store’s launch. I can hardly wait.”

“I’ll be glad when it’s over,” he groused. “If not for Chaz, and his suggestion to give the first floor a minimalist look, the sprinkler damage would’ve postponed the launch indefinitely. But I can safely say that we’re ready.”

“That reminds me,” she said. “Holly saw Chaz with Ian yesterday, having a coffee. I meant to tell you, but I forgot.”

“What? How would he even
know
Ian? Makes no sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she admitted.

“I’m sure she’s mistaken. After all,” he added dryly, “Holly thinks a ghost lives in the brownstone’s attic.” His mobile phone buzzed, and he glanced down at the screen with a frown. “It’s Alastair. We’ll talk when I get home. Have a good day, and stay in.” He brushed his lips against her cheek, and he was gone.

With a sigh, Natalie closed the door after him. She hoped Rhys was right about Holly, that she hadn’t seen Ian in that coffee shop with Chaz.

Deciding to make herself a cup of decaf, Nat rubbed her stomach and murmured, “I do hope you appreciate the things I’ve given up for you. Coffee, wine...Manolos...”

She went in the kitchen and edged past the scary espresso machine, eyeing the steam arm distrustfully, and made herself a cup of decaf. There was one message on her mobile, from Gavin.

“Good morning, Natalie. Your bill’s ready. Stop by anytime and we can go over it. Otherwise, I’ll pop it in the mail on Monday. Ciao!”

She returned the phone to her pocket and wandered down the hall into the nursery, cup in hand, amazed at what Gavin and Suki had done. She paused by one of the tall windows and looked out on the rain-washed panorama of Central Park. A sea of umbrellas bobbed on the pavements below as people hurried to work, and yellow taxis and limos jammed Seventy-seventh Street.

Natalie took a sip of coffee. In just a little over a month her baby, Rhys’s baby, would arrive. She laid a hand on the swell of her stomach. A baby, at last. A tiny boy or girl of their very own...

As she turned to go, telling herself she really
ought
to finish getting dressed, something lying on a far corner of the rug caught her eye.

She set her cup aside and bent down – not without a bit of difficulty – and picked it up. It was a gray scarf with paisley swirls, made of whisper-soft cashmere. Gavin’s.

He must’ve dropped it yesterday, Natalie realized, when he stopped by to check on the painting crew.

Natalie folded the scarf and took it, along with her cup, into the bedroom to get dressed. He was probably wondering where he’d lost it.

I’ll drive out to Brooklyn Heights this morning
, Natalie decided,
and return it, and I can get the bill
. It wasn’t as though she had anything else to do.

She should probably call Devon and let him know she was going out. But she decided against it.

There was no need to bother him; he was on holiday, after all, and probably wanted time alone with Christa before they returned to England at the end of the week.

Besides, Natalie reasoned, she was only returning Gavin’s cashmere scarf, and picking up her bill, and then she’d be back in her car with the doors locked.

What could possibly go wrong?

“I’ve found it. I’ve found a connection.”

Christa, already regretting the red-velvet cupcake she’d indulged in after dinner last night, looked up from her Greek yoghurt and
Daily News
.

“What connection is that?” She’d been deep into a story about an art theft in the Dunleigh, an exclusive Upper West Side co-op not far from the Dakota.

“The cat burglar connection,” he said impatiently. He held up a sheaf of papers. “These are the guest lists, the ones I’ve been going over since yesterday. In every case but one, an interior decoration firm came to the apartments to redecorate.
That’s
the connection.”

“But you just said ‘in every case but one,’” Christa pointed out. “So there goes your theory.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Devon, you’re not making any sense. You’re always telling me a jury can’t convict if there’s reasonable doubt. And the exception to your theory sounds like reasonable doubt to me.”

“Yes, and ordinarily, I’d agree. But in this case, there’s still a connection, albeit a different one.”

At Christa’s blank look, Devon laid the papers aside.

“In every instance where a jewel theft took place,” he said, “the design firm of Gavin Williams and Associates was hired to decorate the apartment...with one exception. A drag queen in Chelsea had his wristwatch stolen a couple of weeks ago. Tonio didn’t hire anyone to redecorate the place...but a Top Cat candy bar was found at the scene.”

She shrugged. “So? Maybe he likes Top Cat bars. Or maybe it was a copycat burglar.”

“I thought so too, at first. But it wasn’t a copycat burglary.” He fixed with a steady gaze. “Gavin and Tonio are romantically involved. Or at least, they were.”

She leaned forward, still unconvinced. “Gavin and this guy Tonio are gay, and they’re lovers, and they had a falling out. So what?”

“Gavin gave him the watch.”

“So you think…what, exactly?”

“I think Gavin wanted the watch back after he and Tonio broke up. He’s in some pretty serious debt. I think he stole that watch because he needs the money, and he left the Top Cat bar behind to throw the police off. It would’ve worked, too, if I didn’t connect his decorating firm to these other burglaries.”

Christa leaned over and kissed him. “Wow, I’m impressed. Excellent detective work, darling.”

“Unfortunately, it’s only begun.” He kissed her again and thrust his chair back. “I’m going to the station. The NYPD need to start building a case against Gavin Williams. I’m convinced he’s our Top Cat burglar.”

Chapter Sixty-Six

“I don’t believe this.”

The windscreen wipers slashed back and forth against the rain as Natalie slowed the car to a stop in front of Gavin Williams and Associates. There was nowhere to park in front of the brownstone, or anywhere else along the entire, rainy length of Cranberry Street.