The Daughter-in-Law (31 page)

Why was she the only one who could see through this girl? How could she be the only one who was aware of the danger? Alexandra understood that she had let Nicole call all the shots. But now she had to fight back. She had to take up the steel that her husband had cast aside. If he wouldn’t get rid of her for good, then she would have to do it herself.

FIFTY-THREE

J
ACK WAS
in no mood to quibble. Nicole was dangerous, able to destroy him with a simple reference to their affair. But he couldn’t avoid the danger. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He had to move her out of his life
now.

“Twenty-five million,” he told Ben Tobin, “paid out over five years. Five million a year.”

Victor Crane sputtered into the water he was sipping. “You don’t mean that Jack, do you?”

Jack looked daggers at his attorney. “I mean what I say, Victor. I want all this over with.”

Crane asked Ben Tobin if he might have a word alone with his client and fidgeted with his papers until Nicole’s lawyer was out of the room. “Jack, will you please explain what’s going on here? I’m trying to keep the damage under ten million, afraid that you’ll have my head if it gets even that high.”

Jack grunted. “No one’s blaming you. You’re doing your job—”

Crane interrupted. “It was their side that asked for this meeting. The young lady is collapsing. Ben Tobin was sent here to take what he can get.” His hands went up in despair. “You’re giving away twenty-five million dollars. Why?”

“That was Jonathan’s legacy. When you clean up all the dummy transactions, that’s about what he was worth. And she was his wife!” It wasn’t easy for Jack to put too much sincerity into Nicole’s rights as his son’s widow. In the time he had spent in her bed he had taught himself not to be disturbed by thoughts of his son.

“She was his wife for less than a month. What could she do to earn that kind of money in a month?”

“Watch your mouth!” Jack flared. His eyes narrowed and his face contorted. “I don’t want you talking about her like that!”

Victor Crane cringed before the onslaught. He had seen Jack explode on many occasions, usually when circumstances had denied
him a financial victory. It was never a pretty scene. But Jack’s rage vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. He shrugged, deflated, and settled back into his chair. “I’m sorry, Victor,” he apologized, which was unusual enough. But then he went on to blame himself. “This . . . whole affair . . . has drained the life out of me. Since Jonathan’s death, I’ve lost Alexandra and maybe even Pam. Nicole is even more . . . destitute . . . than I am. She’s the only one I can talk to . . .”

A sudden flash of clarity jolted Crane. Jack and Nicole were no longer adversaries. They were on the same side, both hollowed by Jonathan’s death and both terribly alone. Jack didn’t want to be rid of Jonathan’s wife. He wanted to take care of her.

“Let me handle this, Jack,” he said in the solicitous voice of a friend. “I’ll do right by the young lady, and right by you and Alexandra.”

“That’s what I was trying to do,” Jack answered.

“You’re so emotionally involved, it has to be impossible for you to stay objective,” the attorney consoled. “Trust me! I’ll get it right.”

Jack nodded, got up from the boardroom table, and walked slowly through the side door into his office. “Thanks, Victor,” were his parting words.

Now it was just the two lawyers who sat across from one another. Crane took off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. Ben pushed his chair away from the table, and leaned back with a writing pad in his lap.

“We have twenty-five million on the table,” he said.

“Jack is distraught,” Victor Crane answered. “The number has no meaning. Let’s get down to business.”

Crane said he was willing to agree to seven million right at that moment. It would be a one-time, one-payment settlement in return for Nicole giving up any future claims against the family. Tobin pointed out the enormous gap between the twenty-five million when he left the room and the seven million when he returned. “You don’t expect me to give up on that amount just because Mr. Donner isn’t feeling like himself.”

Tobin guessed that Nicole would be happy with the seven million dollars. Based on her instructions, he didn’t want the day to end without a deal, but he knew there was more money to be had. The problem was guessing just where Victor Crane’s limits were.

FIFTY-FOUR

N
ICOLE KNEW
that she was running out of time. On one side, Alexandra Donner was digging for the information that could disinherit her. On the other, Jimmy Farr was expecting a lifetime of financial service. She needed to take the money and run.

That’s exactly what she had done several years earlier when she broke away from Farr. Only then, the money had been pocket change—one packet of bills totaling five thousand dollars.

She had been on a mission for Jimmy, bringing cash to the Caribbean. Her assignment was simple. Check into a beachfront resort and enjoy the facilities while waiting to be contacted. Someone would approach her, identify himself, and give her a suitcase to pack. In return, she would turn over an identical suitcase that had cash sewn into the lining. Unpack one valise, and repack into another. She never even had to look at what was being bought and sold.

But then the police caught the man with the cocaine and touched off a frantic search for the money. The drug people came looking for the cash. The police wanted to run down the other end of the transaction. And Jimmy Farr was telling her to catch the next plane back home. Nicole knew exactly what Jimmy wanted her to do. Keep his money out of the hands of the police and the grasp of his suppliers, and bring it back through already alerted customs officials and drug enforcement agencies. If she made it, he would tell her what a great job she had done. If she were caught, he would deny that he had ever heard of her.

She cut open the valise, took out one packet of money, and packed the case with some of her clothes and all the magazines and promotional flyers that had come with her hotel room. She had the bell captain pick up the bag and ship it to an address in Jersey City that served as a blind mail drop for Jimmy’s interests. At the airport, she bought perfume in the duty-free shop, and put her money into
the protective packaging. The perfume would go around customs and bypass the gate check. It wouldn’t be returned to her until she was safely out of the country.

It seemed to go off without a hitch. Nicole’s perfume had been given to her in New York with all the proper documentation. She was able to give Jimmy Farr the receipt for the shipped suitcase, which won her a word of thanks and a pat on the fanny. But then the suitcase was seized by customs along with the cash inside. By the time Jimmy learned that the suitcase had been captured, Nicole had taken her money and disappeared. First, she used the money to lay low until Jimmy was just a bad memory. Then she made a new beginning as an apprentice in the brokerage business.

She had already moved up in the firm when Jimmy found her. By then, he had learned that the cash in his suitcase had been short five thousand dollars, and accused Nicole of helping herself to his money. She had suggested that the custom officials had probably taken a commission before turning the money over to the government, which was certainly plausible. But Jimmy couldn’t shake down the government so he held Nicole responsible. She had paid back the money, with interest, over the next two years.

This time the money would come with legal papers to prove its authenticity. No one in government would be looking for it. As far as the law was concerned she would be in the clear. But Jimmy didn’t want her to run. He wanted her inside of Sound Holdings. Of course, once she left the family, his blackmail threat wouldn’t hold much clout. But Jimmy Farr had never learned how to lose gracefully. If she crossed him, he would come after her.

That was why she was taking such precautions. The money, when received by her New York bank, would stay there for just the few moments it took to transfer it to Switzerland. Ben Tobin was making the arrangements for her settlement to go to a secret numbered account.

Then she had to disappear and become just as impossible to trace as the money. She had reserved a coach airline ticket under the name O’Brien, which was her maternal grandmother’s maiden name. Then the Irish consul in New York had given her the application forms for an Irish passport, a courtesy the republic extends to descendants of Irish emigrants. The theory is that anyone who left Ireland must have been a political refugee because no one would
leave of his own accord. The consul had checked the authenticity of the original O’Brien in Cork, and with no further ado, issued the document. It was already packed in the side of her suitcase. All that remained was Tobin’s assurance that her inheritance had been deposited. Then she would head for the airport, and put an end to an affair that had turned into a terrible nightmare.

But the money wasn’t coming. According to the call she received from Ben Tobin, he and Victor Crane were still far apart on the amount. Ben had heard Jack Donner say twenty-five million and, while he was prepared to accept that the figure was an emotional outburst, he wasn’t prepared to take seven million instead. He was mindful that Nicole had told him to accept anything but, like Victor, he had a duty to protect his client from her moment of weakness. He had kept arguing for a number that would at least split the difference between them, and had decided that fifteen million would be a reasonable outcome. But the other attorney wasn’t budging. Finally, Crane had announced they were at an impasse and had suggested they adjourn for a day or so.

“Are you going to be more generous in a day or so?” Ben had asked sarcastically and then suggested, “Let’s get Jack in here and tell him where we are. Maybe he can come up with a solution.”

Victor had put down the idea quickly. Too quickly, Ben thought, catching a hint that the enemy camp might be divided. That was when he had stepped out into a private office and phoned Nicole.

“I’m getting nowhere with Victor Crane,” he told her. “But I think I could do better going directly to Jack Donner. What do you think?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I think you would.”

He read the situation accurately. Jack had reason to be very generous to Nicole, more generous than his handlers would allow. He had to get Jack alone in a room and get the deal done.

“Nicole, is there anything else I should know about? Any reason why Jack is vulnerable?”

She hesitated a bit too long, and then answered with platitudes about Jack’s fatherly concern that she be treated fairly. “Alexandra drove both Jonathan and I away,” she explained. “Jack wants to make it up to me.”

He knew she was lying. Jack Donner didn’t treat anyone fairly unless it was in his own interest, and he wouldn’t easily cross his
wife. There was something very different about his relationship with his daughter-in-law. What he suspected was nearly unthinkable. But then again, what was more unthinkable than Jack Donner giving away twenty-five million dollars?

Ben returned to the conference room and insisted that Jack be brought back into the meeting. Victor flatly refused. Ben picked up his papers and packed his briefcase. Then the other attorney made a fatal mistake. He raised his offer and announced he was ready to initial a nine-million-dollar deal right on the spot. All he succeeded in doing was to convince Ben that there was much more to be had by talking with Jack. He hoped it was fatherly affection, but he guessed that the hard-hearted banking baron was very much taken with his son’s widow.

FIFTY-FIVE

G
REG LAMBERT
had pushed his investigation using Donner money in place of court subpoenas. Where federal detectives and local police could use the courts to compel testimony, Lambert had used bribes. Money had attracted witnesses that government agents wouldn’t even have known about.

He had conferenced with Alexandra every day, even if he had no answers to share but only more questions. First, he had run down the exact nature of the relationship between Jimmy Farr and Nicole. Jimmy had taken her in when David Hanna, the director, had dumped her, and Nicole was at the very end of her resources. He had made her the chaperone to his adult dancers, most still in their teens, given her a cut of the tips, and lent her an apartment that he borrowed back on occasions. Then he had promoted her to courier in his drug trade, the position she filled on her ill-fated trip to the Caribbean. As far as Lambert could learn, Nicole had never been Jimmy’s woman, although he might have taken advantage of her presence in his apartment. Basically, Jimmy wasn’t interested in women except as a source of income.

David Hanna, on the other hand, had flaunted her as his personal and totally submissive property, even lending her to visiting Hollywood dignitaries. Her reward was his occasional attention, promises of important parts in upcoming plays, and access to his stash of cocaine. In many ways, Hanna had been more abusive than Jimmy Farr.

Lambert had run down roommates and boyfriends all the way back to Nicole’s arrival in New York. “She was really trying to make it in theater,” he reported to Alexandra. “But the general impression is that she would do whatever it took to get by.” He had added photographs, bank records, and receipts, all supporting the picture of a young woman living on the edge of the law and even
closer to the edge of decency. There was certainly more than enough ammunition to drive Nicole out of the family and back into hiding.

But Alexandra was past all that. Sordid living in the past was no longer enough. She needed hard evidence that Nicole was still involved with underworld types. She needed proof that would convict the girl of murdering her son and conspiring to steal the family fortune. It was that kind of information that Greg Lambert thought he had found.

“Phone records,” he said, laying photocopies in front of her. “Farr phoned Nicole’s apartment twice the day after Pam’s graduation party. That would be when her picture appeared on the society page. Then Nicole phoned him from Belize City. She was in town filling out police forms about the break-in at their honeymoon cottage.”