The Shadow of Your Smile (37 page)

“I understand,” Desmond said. “I really do.”

“Then to answer your question, when Greg told me he was sure I was the one who had sent that warning to Arthur Saling, he also asked me, as a final test of loyalty, if the SEC was investigating him.”

“What did you tell him?” Desmond asked, quickly.

“My answer was to ask him why he would ever think to ask a question like that.”

Desmond nodded, approvingly. “Good answer, and please don’t be upset about trying to warn Arthur Saling. Who knows? The transfer of his portfolio probably hasn’t gone through yet, so he may be lucky. We’re arresting Greg Gannon this afternoon. Now that he suspects we’re onto him, he’ll never communicate with any more insider traders.”

“You’re arresting Greg today?” Esther asked sadly.

“Yes. Frankly, I should not have told you that, but I wanted you to know that Arthur Saling’s money is probably still safe.”

“There is no one I would think of telling,” Esther said. “It’s just that it all seems so impossible. Peter Gannon is accused of murdering his former girlfriend. His baby is in a hospital, unwanted by anyone. His ex-wife, Susan, was and is a gem. Greg Gannon had the most wonderful wife and two fine sons, and he left them for a gold digger like Pamela. Now, from what went on yesterday afternoon at the office,
he’s caught on to the fact that she’s involved with someone else. Do you think Pamela will stay by his side when he’s arrested? Not on your life!”

Desmond got up to go. “Unfortunately, we see this kind of thing all the time in our business. We’ll be in touch with you again, Ms. Chambers. But, a friendly word of caution: don’t be too sorry for the Gannons. They’re the architects of their own misery. And they have caused a lot of misery to others.”

It was only after Desmond left that Esther realized Diana Blauvelt, the decorator whom she had left a message for in Paris, might very well have returned her call. She dialed her phone at her desk in the office, hoping that no one else had picked up her voice mail. But if Blauvelt had left the message, it had been erased.

I have to know, Esther thought. Peter’s lawyer said it was so important. She had written Diana Blauvelt’s Paris phone number in her daily reminder book. It’s five thirty in the afternoon in Paris, she thought. I hope I get her in.

A sleepy “Allo” told her that she had reached Blauvelt. Oh, for God’s sake, Esther thought, don’t practice your French on me. “Diana,” she said, apologetically, “you sound as though you might have been napping, but it’s important that I talk to you. Did you get my message and do you remember anything about that desk with the false bottom in it?”

“Oh, it’s you, Esther. Don’t worry about waking me up. I’m going out to dinner later and I just thought I’d rest for half an hour. Of course I remember about the desk. As I told Greg Gannon, when I called back after you’d left your office yesterday, I bought two of those desks.”

“
Two
of them?” Esther exclaimed.

“Yes, one for Peter, and one for Dr. Langdon. I never did see Peter to show him the false bottom in the big drawer, but I did show Dr.
Langdon. He had his desk sent to his office where he sees his psychiatric patients, not to his office at the foundation.”

“You’re sure of this, Diana?”

“Absolutely. And I told Greg Gannon that his wife can back me up. Pamela was there when I showed Dr. Langdon the hiding place in the desk.”

Stunned, Esther realized the possible ramifications of what she had just heard. Then Diana, after a moment’s hesitation, added, “Esther, I understand from Greg that you’re retired now. I’ve got to ask you. Don’t you think that Pamela Gannon and Dr. Langdon have been pulling the wool over Greg Gannon’s eyes for years?”

73
 

Susan had never been in Peter’s apartment. Now she looked around intently as she walked into the living room. Then, with a fleeting smile, she said, “I like what you’ve done here. You always had good taste.”

“Whatever good taste I have as far as home furnishings go, or anything else, for that matter, came from the women in my life, my mother and you.” He took a deep breath, and told her what had been weighing on his mind since the moment he saw Sally’s picture. “Susan, I know what you think of me as a father, but now I beg you to help me as my attorney. I want my daughter. Granted, I have never seen her, but when her mother and I broke up, I gave Renée two million dollars so that she would be able to have the best possible medical care while she was pregnant, and then never contact me again. I was told that Sally was going to be adopted by responsible people, and at the time it seemed like a good idea.”

Why did I have the nerve to think that Susan would help me with this situation? Peter asked himself as he tried to justify his neglect of his child. Nevertheless, he persisted. “I would have continued to support my daughter. You know my quarrel with Renée wasn’t about that. It was about Renée’s ability to hurt Greg with what she knew.”

Susan looked at her ex-husband, her expression calm. “What are you trying to say, Peter?”

“I want Sally. I did not kill her mother. I cannot bear the thought of her being placed in a foster home. I have been accused of a crime, but not convicted of it. What right has anyone to say that I cannot visit her?”

“Peter, are you being serious? Are you telling me that you not only want to
see
Sally, but you want custody of her?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Peter, you are going on trial for murder. No judge will grant you custody now. And I very much doubt that you would be allowed even supervised visitation, since you have never even seen the child.”

“I do not want my daughter in a foster home. Susan, there’s got to be a way to stop that. Look at her picture. My God, she looks so forlorn.” Peter realized there were tears in his eyes. “I’ll find a good nanny and beg the judge to let me have her. I may not go on trial for a year or more. You know how slow the court system is. I have never, ever been in trouble, not even any kid stuff while I was growing up. Susan . . .”

“Hold on, hold on,” she said, softly. “Peter, there is another solution, and one that I’m pretty sure the judge will accept. I want to request custody of Sally.”

Peter stared at Susan. “
You
want Sally!”

“Yes, I do. She is the sweetest little girl and it is pathetic to see how starved she is for affection. And, Peter, she is so smart. I guess her babysitters at least must have read to her, because she was picking out words in some of the books I brought.”

“How many times have you seen her, Susan?”

“Twice. The nurses let me take her out of the crib and hold her. The newspaper picture doesn’t do her justice. She’s a beautiful baby. She’s the image of you.”

“You would want my child?”

“Peter, you seem to forget that for the twenty years we were married I wanted a child more than anything else. I still do. Kristina
Johnson, the young nanny who probably saved Sally’s life by rushing her to the hospital, came in to visit her while I was there. It’s obvious that Sally is attached to Kristina. She had such a big smile for her. Kristina would be glad to take care of Sally again while I’m at work. And there’s no problem about room. As you’re well aware, there are three bedrooms in the apartment.”

We bought that apartment when we’d only been married a couple of years, Peter thought. Susan was pregnant, and we felt that we needed a bigger place. Then she miscarried three times. It broke her heart, but she said we still had each other. So we stayed in that apartment.

And then I left her.

“You think you can get custody immediately, that she won’t have to go to a foster home?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“I will file for an emergent hearing before Sally is released from the hospital. Why would a judge turn me down? Forty-six isn’t too old. My reputation is spotless. I have the room. As your ex-wife, I classify as a concerned relative. And I want her. The minute I saw her, I knew she would make up for all the heartbreak of losing the others.”

Her eyes suddenly moist, Susan looked at Peter. “You are her father, of course. The judge will probably give you some input in this. Will you let me have Sally?”

“Are you talking adoption or custody while my case is pending?”

“Both. If I take her, I can’t lose her.”

“Susan, you can keep Sally, but only if I can visit her and can really have a part in my daughter’s life. I can’t lose her, either.”

They were clasping each other’s hands. Without letting go of Susan’s entwined fingers, Peter said, “I have started to get flashes of memory of that night. I wasn’t going to tell anyone, because I didn’t want to give Greg up, but I’m not sure I’m strong enough to spend the rest of my life in prison, even for my brother.”

“Peter, what are you talking about?”

“Greg’s car was parked across the street from that bar. Renée knew him when we were seeing each other. If he offered her a ride, she’d take it.”

“Greg knew that she was extorting money from you, didn’t he?”

“Sure. He was at the foundation meeting when I asked for the million-dollar loan, but he thought it was because she was going to reveal to the gossip columnists that I was Sally’s father. That didn’t upset him at all. His attitude was, ‘So what?’ I didn’t tell him at the time that there was a lot more to it.”

“Then why would he have been waiting outside the bar?” Susan asked.

“I was desperate to get that money. After he turned me down, I called Pamela and told her that Renée was going to blow the whistle on Greg’s insider trading. I knew Pamela could give me the money. Greg has put plenty in her name. She must have told him, and maybe it drove him over the edge.” He paused. “Susan, I think my brother killed Renée.”

Peter shook his head. “How can I give him up?” he asked, his voice anguished. “How can I?”

“How can you not?” Susan demanded. “But it’s your decision to make and live with, Peter. I have to get back to the office. I’ll see you later.”

74
 

At two thirty on Tuesday, Barry Tucker went directly from the morgue, where he and Detective Flynn had viewed Scott Alterman’s body, to headquarters to report to Chief Stanton. Flynn went from the morgue back to Alterman’s apartment building to question the staff there.

“Dennis is trying to get a handle on Alterman’s activities, from the time he visited Monica Farrell on Thursday evening until he left his apartment late Saturday,” Tucker told the chief.

“Carl, do you think this looks like Scott Alterman was behind the attempt on Dr. Farrell’s life?” Stanton asked. “Does the medical examiner think he’s dealing with a suicide?”

“Too soon to tell. No marks on his body. We’ve contacted Alterman’s parents and siblings. They haven’t talked to him since last week. The ME thinks he may have been drugged before he fell into the river. Or was pushed. We won’t have the drug tests from the lab for at least a week. If he did order the hit on the doctor, he may have panicked, and overdosed himself. On the other hand,” Forrest speculated, “according to the doorman, when Alterman left his apartment building on Saturday night, he was in good spirits.”

“Which tells us nothing,” Stanton observed. “Sometimes when people decide to let go, they get a sudden sense of peace.”

“I’m wondering if Alterman wasn’t a little wacky,” Forrest said.
“On Friday, in his office, his secretary and some of the other staff were talking about Monica Farrell almost being killed by the bus. Alterman told them he knew her and was going to prove that she was the heiress to a vast fortune.”

“That does sound whacky,” Stanton agreed. “I really do think that he was the guy who hired Sammy Barber. I just wish we could nail that lowlife, too.”

“So do I, but . . .” Carl Forrest stopped in midsentence and pulled out his cell phone. “It’s Flynn,” he said, then answered it. “What’s up?”

Jack Stanton watched as a look of astonishment came over Forrest’s face.

“You mean that Alterman rented a car and driver and went to a cemetery in Southampton, then to Greg Gannon’s house on Saturday?” Forrest asked, incredulously.

“I spoke to the driver,” Flynn reported. “Alterman had found out that an old lady, Olivia Morrow, who died last Tuesday night, had gone there last Tuesday afternoon. He got in touch with the driver and hired him for the same drive as the Morrow woman. She told the driver she had grown up in a cottage on the Gannon property. The house still belongs to Greg Gannon, Peter Gannon’s brother. The driver told Scott that Olivia Morrow didn’t go into the house, but Scott Alterman did on Saturday afternoon, and stayed for about an hour.”