The Trophy Wife (25 page)

“Her note could have come as a disappointment if he was counting on half her divorce settlement,” Andrew mused. “But he doesn't know a thing about InterBank activities. And if he were in on it, why would he have come in after the kidnappers and walked all over the crime scene?”

“So who does that leave?” Helen asked.

“The other banker, I suppose. He knows the bank procedures inside out and he has a real interest in derailing Childs's career.”

“Yeah, but he already has a seven-figure salary and all the perks. Why would he risk exchanging all that for a jail cell?”

Hogan supplied the answer. “To make himself the world's top financier. For people like Mitchell, finishing second is a complete disgrace.”

Helen nodded. “So I guess the only one left is you.”

Hogan laughed. “You still think I might be the kidnapper?”

“You're the only one with the underworld contacts,” She answered.

“Well, I'm not paying for the chorus girl you have following me,” Hogan said.

“No charge. It's the least I can do for an old friend.”

They fell into another period of moody silence, both focused on the same set of suspects and motives to see if there might be something that they had missed. Then Hogan put his thinking into words. “Suppose Emily decided that she didn't want to be pushed aside …” Helen looked up into Andrew's face, signaling her interest, so Hogan continued with his train of thought. “Walter lays everything out for her one night, tells her he's fallen in love with another woman and explains what a wonderful settlement she's going to get. But instead of demanding more, like any sensible wife would, Emily says flat out no. She threatens to drag Walter and his mistress into the garish light of public disclosure. Walter pleads. Promises her twice as much, but she isn't interested in the money. She's so pissed at the guy that she wants his head on a pole. She's already cutting out a scarlet letter to sew onto Angela's lapel. Wouldn't that be enough motive? Wouldn't Walter want to put her out of the way?”

“Maybe so,” Helen allowed.

“Or, suppose Walter accepts the bad news,” Andrew continued. “So he goes back to Angela and tells her that he won't be able to marry her because he'll be disgraced and thrown out of the banking world. All of a sudden, a very ambitious young lady who figured she was going to get it all is now going to get nothing except the occasional sexual favors of a middle-aged man. Quite a disappointment, don't you think?”

“It's a motive,” Helen conceded. She stood up wearily. “Guess I better find out whether Emily Childs knew she was going to get thrown out of bed.”

“How are you going to find that out?”

“Amanda. She's searching through her mother's records. Maybe she found a check retaining a divorce lawyer.”

* * *

Walter Childs took a devious route from his office. He signed out in the usual fashion, crossed the lobby, and as he climbed into the waiting limo, stole a glance at the man who had been watching his office. The man, presumably one of Hogan's hirelings, waited until the car pulled away from the curb and then turned abruptly to head off in the other direction. That was exactly what Childs expected. Just as on the previous nights, the one watching his office had passed him off to another investigator whose car was just now falling into line behind the limo. The car would tail them all the way out to Short Hills, up to the moment when they turned into the driveway. Then it would roll past, leaving him to the man who was watching his house.

Walter made sure the car was still following when the limo turned south on Park Avenue. Then he leaned forward to his driver. “Omar, I need to head uptown. Take a U-turn here.”

Omar looked bewildered. “Where would you like to go?”

“Just uptown. Now!”

Omar braked and turned abruptly into the cross-street cutout in the center island. He found a minute space in the northbound traffic and accelerated rapidly into his turn. The following car was hung up at the intersection. With the light turning yellow at the next corner, Walter yelled, “Take this right!”

“Dammit,” Omar cursed quietly as he squealed into an abrupt right turn. As soon as they were safely on the cross street headed east, he added, “You should give me more warning, Mr. Childs—”

Walter cut him off. “We were being followed. I think we lost him on the first turn. But you better make a few more just to be damn sure.”

Omar registered a different kind of fright. “Followed?” He reached for the telephone that was cradled in the dashboard.

“Don't call anyone,” Walter ordered. “Go north, then east over to Second. Use Second south and get me back to the rear door of the bank.” He glanced over his shoulder. There were a couple of taxis hanging on the back bumper, but no sign of the following car. One of the cabs blasted its horn as
Omar took a quick left without signaling. There were more angry horn blasts as they angled across traffic and turned into the next eastbound street. Omar backed off to a normal speed, and coasted to a stop at the Second Avenue traffic light.

“I am supposed to call immediately if anything suspicious happens,” he said indignantly. “I really have to call.”

“Just get me back to the office and then don't hang around. Keep driving. I'll phone you when I'm ready.”

“But the procedure is …”

“For Christ's sake, Omar, I'll tell you what procedure is. Just do it!”

The driver looked as if his feelings were hurt.

Walter jumped out quickly and went directly to the security lock on the rear doors. He bent over the keypad as if entering his identity code, but kept an eye on the car until it had turned at the next corner. Then he stepped back out into the street and hailed a taxi.

He used the back door and the fire stairs to reach Angela's floor, searched through the wired-glass window to make sure the corridor was empty, and then dashed to her apartment door. He used his key to let himself in so that he wouldn't have to wait outside for the bell to be answered.

He crossed the living room to the bedroom door and tapped softly. “It's me. Please! I have to see you.”

The door pulled open. Angela was slipping into her robe. She looked more angry than startled. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I have to talk to you.” He led her out to the living room sofa.

“Now?” She questioned. “I thought we agreed that this wasn't a very good idea.”

“I know.” He left her sitting on the sofa while he went to the kitchen liquor cabinet.

“You shouldn't have come here,” she said when he returned with their drinks. “It's bad enough that moron suspects me. Now he'll think that we're working together.”

“I'm so sorry,” he began. “I never would have allowed them to subject you to that kind of treatment. But it never
dawned on me that you would … involve yourself … in the investigation.” He sat carefully on the edge of the sofa next to her, but made certain to keep a bit of distance between them. It was as if he were asking if he were still welcome.

She shook her head slowly. “They had no right. No right at all.”

“Of course not. They're a bunch of damn fools.” Walter's hand wandered over to touch her shoulder. He was relieved when she didn't pull away. “I should have thrown the whole bunch of them out. But I'm not thinking straight. Jesus, I keep thinking that we've blown it and wondering what they might be doing to Emily to get even. I've read things … like people being buried in a box and just left there. Or even worse, like …” He squeezed his eyes shut to lock out the ghastly images.

Angela took his face between her hands and brought it close to hers. She kissed his cheek softly and then rested against his shoulder. “I'm the one who should be apologizing, Walter. I was angry because my dignity was being abused. I should have been thinking about what you were suffering. It was selfish of me.”

He hugged her reassuringly. “No. We're both upset. It's just too damn much to cope with.” He jumped up and began to pace frantically. “I handled this wrong right from the beginning. I never should have tried to play it smart. I never should have gone to Andrew Hogan. I should have just collected the money and deposited it in the account, exactly the way they told me. If I had, Emily might be home now, safe …”

“You did what was right,” Angela corrected. “You went to an expert. Someone who should have known how to handle it.”

“He's a cop,” Walter wailed. “I should have known that he'd act like a cop. That he'd try to catch the bastards instead of trying to save her.”

“You can't blame yourself. You've tried twice to buy her freedom. It's Hogan and his goons who keep screwing things up. If anyone is responsible, it's he. Jesus, he couldn't have
done any worse if he were trying to get her killed. The way Andrew Hogan has worked things out, you're going to get hurt no matter what happens.”

His eyes flashed. What in hell was she saying?

“Well, just think about it,” Angela said, putting aside her untouched drink. “He didn't go to the board the way he was supposed to. That would have lifted the entire burden off your neck. And yet he won't let you pay the ransom.”

“He can't,” Walter interjected. “He can't let me give away the bank's money.”

“No, I understand that. He's just using the money to bait the trap for the kidnappers. Only he never catches anyone in his trap. The guy on the telephone never took the bait. And down in the Caymans, he arrested me instead of the person who was waiting at the airport.”

Walter squinted, suspicious of her logic.

“Don't you see? If you don't pay the money, you lose your wife. And if you do, you lose your career. Andrew Hogan gets to drag you before the board and say, 'Look who I caught with his hand in the till.' ”

His expression hardened. She was certainly right Hogan had screwed things up right from the beginning.

“Walter, is it possible that Andrew has it in for you? Is there any reason why he'd want to destroy you?”

“Hogan? Of course not. We hardly even spoke to each other before all this happened.” Then he shook his head. “He'd never be involved in a kidnapping.”

“No! But is there any reason why he would use the kidnapping as a way to get back at you? Because everything he does seems to bury you deeper in your problems. He seems to be grinding you into the ground. Christ, he made you sit and watch while he and his bullies were working me over.”

The idea was absurd. And yet, Hogan's plans kept backfiring. The kidnappers were never caught. Emily had not been freed. And no money had left the bank. He seemed to be running in circles, chasing after thugs who would probably fit comfortably into Andrew's circle of underworld associates. Certainly, Andrew wouldn't be a kidnapper. But would he
enjoy watching Walter, or one of his senior executive associates, swing slowly in the wind? And would he be likely to throw one of them to the wolves just to raise his own stock with the bank's management? The thought wasn't beyond consideration. Andrew was a proud man who had enjoyed sterling success on the public payroll. Yet the senior executives had treated him like a night watchman. Walter couldn't help think that if he were in Andrew's place, he would relish a few moments of sweet revenge.

“I haven't told him anything about tomorrow.”

Angela looked up quickly. “Tomorrow?”

“I was contacted again by the bastard who's holding Emily. He threatened to do horrible things to her and then told me I had one more chance to save her. I'm delivering the money tomorrow.”

“Alone? Where?”

“It has to be alone. I'm not going to jeopardize Emily again. And I don't know where. He has my cell phone number. He told me to bring the money and just keep driving around the Paramus Mall. He'll contact me. Probably send me on a couple of wild-goose chases. Then he'll tell me where to leave the money.”

Her eyes darkened with fear. “Walter, that could be dangerous. You have no experience dealing with this kind of person.”

He tossed down the drink. “I've got to do it this way. It's what I was told. And Hogan doesn't know about it so he can't mess it up. I have no choice.”

Walter took her into his arms and held her tight. “Please don't worry. I'll be all right. I shouldn't have told you anything about it.” He kissed her forehead and then bolted out the front door and down the fire stairs. Twenty minutes later he was in his limousine, with Omar behind the wheel, driving downtown toward the tunnel. I shouldn't have told her about tomorrow, he berated himself as he stared blankly out into the traffic. It was then he realized that he hadn't told her about the previous scheme to pay Emily's ransom. Angela knew how the $100 million was going to be transferred and which
bank it was going to. But how did she know when the transfer was going to take place? How did she know to be in Grand Cayman on the right day and to be across from the Folonari branch at precisely the right time?

Suddenly, Walter felt totally alone and completely exhausted. There was no one he could trust.

Amanda and Alex were waiting in the living room, she in jeans and a sweatshirt and he in his shirtsleeves, a print necktie tight up against a buttoned collar. He was taller than his father and more athletic, with a muscular neck and more of his weight in his shoulders. But there was no mistaking his lineage. He had his father's chiseled features and his hair was the same color, thinning in the same pattern. Walter went straight to his son and embraced him. “I didn't want to drag you into his,” he said. “But I'm glad you're here with me.”

“What have you heard? Is there any news about Mom?” he asked.

Walter nodded. “We're very hopeful. We're following some very good leads.”

Alex pulled away. “You should have told me right away. You must have been going through hell.”