Stabbing Stephanie (20 page)

She could always count on Daniel.

S
tephanie had already come in. She was in the family room with Nick, Florence, and Winky. They were watching one of Nick's cartoon shows; he was explaining each character to them. Stephanie, eyes narrowed in fascination, looked up when Jane appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Hello, all,” Jane said. “Am I missing something good?”

“It's
CyberWarriors,
missus.” Florence was brightly animated, but Jane could tell this was the result of a great effort on Florence's part. She was, of course, still horrified, devastated, about what had happened to her friend Una, what she had seen. That was something she could never forget.

“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes, missus.”

“Great. Thanks.” Jane crossed the family room, excusing herself when she walked in front of the TV. In the foyer she hung up her coat. Suddenly Stephanie appeared.

“Well?” she whispered. “Anything?”

Jane frowned. “Anything what?”

“Have you discovered anything? At Carson & Hart? What do you think?”

“I've learned a lot,” Jane said, “but nothing you don't already know. I need more than a day if I'm going to find out anything meaningful.”

“I see,” Stephanie said. “All right.” Though from her face Jane could tell that Stephanie didn't feel this was all right at all.

Watching Stephanie return to the family room, Jane recalled the image of her emerging from Gavin's office, that smug look on her face. Did Stephanie really want Jane to find out everything that went on at Carson & Hart?

 

 

After dinner, she called Daniel and found him at home.

“I was going to call you, 007,” he said with a laugh. “I've got some things to report about the Nat Barre book.”

“Shoot, shoot. On second thought, let me buy you a drink.”

She laughed. “Daniel, you are such a fuddy-duddy. Yes, tonight! Can you meet me at Eleanor's in half an hour? I promise you'll get home by bedtime.”

“Very funny. All right, Eleanor's in thirty minutes.”

When she arrived, he was already at a table for two in the restaurant's bar. Always the gentleman, he rose as she approached. He was smiling but looked uncomfortable.

“What's the matter?” she asked.

“It's smoky in here. I hate that. Doesn't it bother you?”

She shrugged, hanging her coat on the back of her chair. “Can't say I noticed it. You want to sit someplace else?”

“We can't because we're not having dinner.”

“Ah.” She gave a flip of her wrist. “We'll live. Now tell me what's been going on.”

He shook his head, gave a little laugh of disbelief. “How long are you going to do this? It's . . . insane.”

“No, it's not,” she told him reasonably, “it's a good deed. I'm helping Stephanie, who is the cousin of my late husband. Besides, it's fun in a surreal sort of way.”

“What's it like there?”

She puzzled over this question. “It's a strange place, not corporate at all, definitely a family business. Each personality exerts a strong influence.”

He nodded, though he looked bewildered. “And have you found out anything—anything Stephanie would find useful?”

“No, but I intend to do some serious snooping as soon as I get the opportunity.”

At this he just cast his eyes upward. Then he reached down to the floor for a spiral-bound notebook. “Let me tell you what's been happening with the Barre book.”

Five of the editors to whom Jane had submitted the novel had called to say they planned to participate in Jane's auction on the fifth. Two editors had passed. Ham Kiels had not called about putting down a floor bid.

At this news, Jane shrugged. “I doubt he will, then. He'll wait for the auction and take his chances. I probably wouldn't have accepted his measly floor anyway.”

“How do you know it would have been measly?”

“Because it's Corsair!
Measly
is their middle name.”

“Yeah, you're probably right.” He closed his notebook.

She looked around. “Isn't someone supposed to take our drink order, or don't they do that at bars anymore?”

“Yes, of course they do,” Daniel said, casting his gaze around the dark-paneled room, “but it's very busy. I'll go up. What would you like?”

“Mm . . . a champagne cocktail, I think.” She smiled at him. “Thanks.” She watched him thread his way among the tables and stand at the bar, waiting for the bartender. All the stools at the bar were full—men and women chattering away, laughing, whispering intimately. Idly Jane scanned these people, wondering if she knew any of them.

And blinked.

Two stools down from where Daniel stood sat Stephanie. She no longer wore the simple suit she had worn at the office. Before coming out she'd put on a slinky black dress.

But who was Stephanie with? It was a man, that much Jane could tell in the dim light, and whoever he was, Stephanie knew him well, because their faces were only inches apart. Jane squinted—and blinked again. It was Gavin Hart. Jane looked away, wishing she could crawl out.

“Here we go.” Daniel appeared, placing her drink before her. He frowned down at her. “Is something wrong?”

“Sit, sit.” She leaned across the little table toward him. “At the bar,” she whispered. “Stephanie and Gavin Hart.”

“Who's Gavin Hart?”

“Shhh!” She slid a glance toward the bar to make sure Gavin hadn't heard his name. Apparently he hadn't, still engaged in his tête-à-tête chatter with Stephanie.

“Who's Gavin Hart?” Daniel repeated softly.

“Faith Carson's husband! Don't you remember? You saw him at Puffy's house.”

He looked over. “Oh, yes . . .” He looked back at Jane. “So he and Stephanie are having a drink together. They work in the same office. She's new. What's the big deal?
We're
having a drink.”

“True, but I wasn't alone in your office for an hour today, and I didn't come out looking like I'd swallowed the canary.”

An unfortunate reference, Jane reflected, but was distracted by Daniel's wide-eyed look of surprise. “You mean they're—”

She nodded avidly. “An office item. Don'tcha love it?”

“No,” he said, looking quite serious, “I can't say I do, Jane, with all due respect to Kenneth and his cousin. It's sleazy.”

“I completely agree. And,” she said, turning her chair, “not something I want Stephanie to know I know about. Besides, she's a grownup. What she does is her business, and I have no right to judge her.”

Jane took a sip of her drink at the same time that Daniel put his to his lips, and when their eyes met they both burst out laughing.

“What?” she said, all innocence.

“You have no right to judge her—but you will! You always do.”

“True,” she said reflectively. “And I should stop that, shouldn't I? I wonder if I've been a member of the Defarge Club for too long.”

“Jane,” he said impatiently, “you are a member of the Defarge Club because you are a gossip. You are not a gossip because you are a member of the Defarge Club.”

“Very good, Daniel!” She gave a large shrug. “Let's move on, shall we? I really appreciate your holding down the fort while I've been spying. But you have to remember not to call me there unless it's a dire emergency. And you have to ask for Lana Pitt.”

“That's what I did,” he began to protest.

“I know, I know. You handled it fine. I'm just reminding you. But tomorrow, wait for me to call you. I'll sneak off at lunchtime and call you on my cell phone.”

“Why can't you just come to the office at lunch?”

“Because that's when I intend to do my snooping!”

Movement at the bar drew her attention. Stephanie and Gavin were leaving. Jane returned her gaze to Daniel and wiggled her eyebrows. “She'll be coming in late tonight!” Then she turned pensive. “I wonder what Gavin will tell Faith . . .”

 

 

Snug in her bed, leaning against the headboard with her knees up, Winky a purring furball under the covers at her feet, Jane turned slightly to look at her bedside clock. Half past midnight. Stephanie still hadn't come in, but though Jane found that fact interesting, it wasn't why she was still awake. The reason was the book propped against her knees,
Queen of Heaven
by Faith Carson, which Jane had borrowed from Florence.

She'd been reading it practically since she got home from Eleanor's, after a quick shower. Faith's story of the fairy-tale-turned-nightmare phase of her life was engrossing, but to read it after meeting a number of the story's key players made it unputdownable.

She'd reached the point in the story when Ravi had just hired Gavin as his official secretary. “Energetic, darkly handsome Gavin Hart,” Faith called him. Jane pondered those words for a moment, considered the possibilities . . . Then she continued reading.

Jane looked up sharply. She'd heard a noise downstairs. Stephanie coming in, no doubt. Jane heard the sliding of the closet door in the foyer and imagined Stephanie hanging up the ever-present mink. Then came slow footsteps on the stairs, then down the hall, approaching Jane's bedroom. But they didn't continue past her door; they stopped, and there came a soft knocking.

“Jane?” Stephanie whispered through the door, which was open a few inches.

Jane sat up and, without knowing why, shoved the book under the covers. “Yes, Stephanie, come in,” she said pleasantly.

Stephanie poked her head around the door. Her black hair was mussed the way hairsprayed hair gets mussed, and her makeup was gone. She'd probably washed it off rather than leave it smudged, a good idea, but the result was that Stephanie looked pale and haggard. The large black-haired head with its sharp features reminded Jane more than ever of a gigantic rat.

Forcing this image from her mind, Jane realized from Stephanie's pinched expression that something was wrong.

“Come in, come in,” she said. “Everything all right?”

Stephanie came into the room. Her dress was torn at the sleeve, as if someone had tried to rip it off.

Jane sat up straighter. “What happened?” Had Gavin done this?

“Oh, Jane . . .” Stephanie sat down on the edge of Jane's bed and gave her an imploring look. “I can confide in you, right?”

“Of course.”

“There's something you should know. It's about me and Gavin. We're—well, we're having an affair.”

Nice thing to do to your best friend, Jane thought, but only nodded, keeping her expression neutral.

“He and I went out after work tonight. We had drinks at that restaurant you took me to by the river—Eleanor's?”

“Right.”

“Then we had dinner there. After that we . . . went back to the office. Gavin has a sofa in his office.”

Jane found it hard to continue keeping her expression neutral, but she did, and gave a little nod.

“When we were—done, Gavin left the office first. He was in a hurry to get back to Faith. He'd told her he had a meeting with a potential author. I saw him out and locked the reception room door after him. Then I fixed my hair, washed my face, and left about twenty minutes after him.”

“How did you get home? Couldn't he have given you a ride?”

Stephanie looked embarrassed, smiled a sickly smile. “I asked him to, but he said he was in too much of a hurry and your house is out of his way. He gave me the number of a cab company.”

Jane nodded. In Shady Hills there was only one: Shady Hills Taxi. At this time of night, Stephanie probably got Erol, who'd been driving for the company for more than thirty years.

“I left the building and waited in back, on the steps. I'd told the taxi dispatcher I wanted to be picked up there. I mean, I couldn't very well be standing out front at this time of night!”

Apparently Stephanie did have some modicum of shame. Jane waited for her to go on.

“I waited a good ten minutes, but the taxi never came.” Stephanie looked irritated. “It occurred to me that maybe the dispatcher hadn't told the driver to come around to the back, so I hurried around to the front of the building, thinking the taxi might already be waiting there. To get to the front, as you know, you have to take that narrow drive at the end, and there's no light there, Jane,” she said, as if that were Jane's fault. “It was almost completely dark—I could barely see a foot in front of me.”

Jane thought of pointing out to Stephanie that in a town like Shady Hills, it's not likely that someone will need lights in an alley beside an office building at midnight. But she didn't point this out.