Priceless (10 page)

She smiled at him. Geller’s gift was in taking the shame away from pawnbroking. You knew he would hold on to your items until you either claimed them back or told him he could keep them, at which time he would dispose of them in such a way that
you wouldn’t see them around the neck of a friend two weeks later. He made you feel that you were simply doing the sensible thing.

Charlotte got down to business. “I wanted to show you some items that were my mother’s.”

As always, Geller raised his eyebrows in delight. “Really? How lovely. May I take them to my workroom?”

She handed over the black velvet case and drank her coffee as he took it next door. After only a few moments, he returned.

“Miss Williams, I am so honored to see your mother’s diamonds. They are famous, of course, but I had never seen them in person. The pearls are incomparable and the jade highly collectible. Your father has always had exquisite taste in vintage jewelry.”

“I’m glad you think so. Do you have any thoughts about what they might fetch at auction?”

“I would think a conservative estimate would be around one hundred fifty thousand dollars for the diamonds and maybe another sixty or seventy thousand for the other pieces. You chose very well from your collection, Miss Williams.”

“Please call me Charlotte.”

“Thank you. I would be pleased to.” There was a delicate pause. “You know, I would be happy to hold these items for you—on consignment, so to speak.”

Charlotte wondered how many people had gone through this elegant and elaborate charade with Geller. There was never any discussion of “pawning,” never any tickets or claim checks. Just the helpful holding of items, the preparation of them for “auction.”

“That would be enormously kind of you, Mr. Geller, and I
would appreciate it. May I leave them with you today?”

She had heard that he kept a million dollars in cold, hard cash in his workroom, but it was polite to give him the option of extra time to have the money ready for you. She was in luck.

“That would be lovely. I shall clean the pieces, of course, and when you come to take them back, they will be exactly as you left them.”

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, she got back into the car with more than two hundred thousand dollars in her pocket.

“Let’s go home, Davis. We’ve got some things to take care of.”

“Very good, Miss.”

Geller, watching from the window, saw the long, low car slide away from the curb and wondered how long it would be before he saw the rest of her collection. He also pondered the fact that several of Jacob Williams’s former clients were coming to see him that day and sighed. There are always those for whom bad business is good business, and today Geller’s business was booming.

Charlotte didn’t actually make it home. Her phone rang just as they were approaching the park.

“Mr. Bedford, good morning. How is my father today?” She caught Davis’s eye in the rearview, but he dropped his gaze.

A minute later, she hung up. “Davis, we need to go downtown. Center Street. Daddy’s being arraigned at eleven.”

“Didn’t that happen yesterday?”

Charlotte started to sweat and wished she’d worn darker clothing. “Yes, but apparently, he wishes to change his plea.” This time, his eyes held in the rearview, and she shrugged.

THE STEPS OF
the Criminal Court Building were thronged with reporters and camera people who were there for something exciting.

It turned out she was the excitement, as her father had already gone in and been heckled.

“Charlotte, Charlotte, do you have anything to say?”

“Is he pleading guilty?”

“Is he pleading insanity?”

“Where’s the money, Charlotte?”

Charlotte just tucked her head down and pushed through, glad she’d locked all of that cash in the glove box. Suddenly, a woman pushed through the throng of photographers and hit her on the shoulder, hard, spinning her around.

“Hey, bitch,” said the woman, spitting with fury. “You’re not going to be so pretty when I’m done with you.” And she swung her fist directly at Charlotte’s face. Charlotte ducked, and the woman’s fist grazed her cheek, knocking her to the ground. The woman jumped on her and managed to get in a few hard slaps, despite Charlotte’s covering her face with her arms. It seemed like forever before the police pulled her off, still screaming obscenities. Through streaming tears, Charlotte could see the TV cameras still running, their red lights like a dozen staring eyes. No wonder no one had helped her. They had shots to get, careers to protect.

One camera-less reporter helped her to her feet, and as she went to thank him, she recognized him from the park. That seemed like days ago, but it was just yesterday.

“Miss Williams.” He smiled gently. “Are you OK?”

“Mr. Robinson.” Amazingly, she remembered his name. “I am, thank you.” She looked at her hands, which were shaking. She could hardly feel her face. “Does it look really bad?”

Robinson was pale, though his eyes were very bright. “Um …”

“It hurts,” she said, and then everything went dark, and down she went again. As the photographers realized she’d fainted, they pushed in, surrounding her like the vultures they so closely
resembled. The only movement was Scarsford, who was running down the wide marble steps of the court building.

And the woman who’d attacked her, who was sobbing uncontrollably, handcuffed to a policeman.

“
IT’S NOTHING AT
all, honestly. I really need to get back to Center Street.”

Charlotte was sitting on the edge of a gurney, wearing a gray hospital gown with Beth Israel logos all over it, her face swollen, her nose still a little bloody.

The doctor peered over the chart at her.

“You can go wherever the heck you want once I’m done here, but if you pass out again, go to a different ER, OK? They dock my pay every time I release someone and they come back within the hour.”

She looked at his name tag. “Dr. Waxman, you said yourself nothing was broken.”

He ignored her, completing his work before responding. Scarsford was standing there, as was a female police officer and a very pale Davis.

Finally, he looked up. “OK, look, here’s the thing. Yes, nothing’s broken, but she walloped you pretty good. It’s lucky she didn’t break your nose. No plastic surgery in the world would have stood up to that.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah, that’s lucky. It’s also my real nose.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you say. It’s up to you, Miss Williams. You might have some delayed shock, you’re going to have some minor bruising, but yeah, you can leave now.” He
looked at Davis. “She should rest, but I get the impression she basically does her own thing.”

Davis nodded. He looked as if he should be admitted himself, and the doctor paused.

“Are you all right?”

Davis nodded.

Waxman looked at him a moment longer but apparently decided he would live. He left, barking at a nurse to complete the paperwork to release them, and eventually they were able to leave.

IN THE CAR
on the way back to Center Street, Scarsford filled her in.

“Your father pleaded guilty and basically hasn’t said a word since.”

She frowned. “Why would he do that?”

“If he’s not guilty?”

“No, why not talk?”

Scarsford looked out the window, not wanting to meet her eye. “Maybe he’s protecting someone. Now that his plea is entered, we go straight to sentencing. There’s no need for further investigation, no need for him to say anything if he doesn’t want to.” He looked back. “I mean, he can cooperate with our investigation if he wants to, and God knows we would like him to, but the law cannot compel him to do anything else.”

“Whom would he be protecting? Marshall is already cooperating. Sheila?” Her dad’s secretary.

A quick shake of the head. “Nope, Sheila doesn’t really get involved in much more than basic office stuff. She’s in the clear.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she got it. “You mean me, don’t you? You think he’s protecting me.”

“You’re all he has left.”

“Does he know someone walloped me?”

Davis answered that one. “I spoke to Mr. Bedford on the way to the hospital, to assure him you were fine. I didn’t want your father to hear you’d been attacked but not know you were all right.”

“I don’t know anything about his business.” She looked at Scarsford firmly. “I have no idea about any of it, and I’m still not convinced Dad did anything wrong.”

“You don’t take his word for it? What’s the matter, don’t you trust him?”

She tightened her lips and turned away.

“
I DID IT
, Charlotte. I’m sorry, but there it is.” Jacob looked a lot better than he had the previous day. Calmer. Healthier. Wearing an orange jumpsuit. He looked around the visitors’ room, which was old and gray, with surprisingly beautiful high, tall windows cut into the thick walls. Ironic, seeing as no one there wanted to be reminded of the beauty of outside. “I can’t say I like the dress code, but I doubt there’s anything I can do about it.”

Charlotte felt stunned. She hadn’t mentioned the bruising on her face, but she’d expected her dad to be all freaked out. Instead, he hadn’t said word one about it. He was almost relaxed, leaning his elbows on the red Formica of the table.

“You know,” he leaned forward. “It’s strange, but I actually feel enormously relieved that it’s all over. It was very hard to maintain, you know.”

Charlotte frowned. “Really? I expect that will be nice for the people to know. The people whose money you took.”

Jacob’s smile faded. “Yes, that part isn’t so good, is it?”

“What about Davis and Greta? You took their money, too.”

He looked at his hands. “Yes. That was a mistake. I was hoping to cash them out and just never got around to it.”

Charlotte regarded him steadily. Her face hurt, the painkillers were wearing off, and she was starting to feel more than a little bit annoyed. Why had she never noticed how selfish her father was? Maybe she was too selfish herself to pay attention to him. A sobering thought.

“I did mean what I said yesterday, though. I didn’t anticipate it turning into the problem it did. I found a loophole, and it was more like a game than a plan.”