Honeymoon - James Patterson [38]
All she needed was a little help.
“Estate Treasures, can I help you?”
“Hi, it’s Nora Sinclair calling. Is Harriet there?”
“Sure, Nora, hold on a second.”
Nora switched ears with her cell phone. She was in the backseat of the Town Car that was taking her out to Connor’s house.
Harriet got on the line. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite decorator.”
“I bet you say that to every decorator.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. And wouldn’t you know, they all believe me. So how’s business, Nora?”
“Pretty good. That’s why I’m calling.”
“So when can I expect you here in the shop?”
“Actually, that’s going to be my question to you, Harriet. I need you to make a house call.”
“Oy. Where am I going? New York City, I hope. Nora? Talk to me.”
“Briarcliff Manor. A client of mine recently passed away.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So was I,” said Nora calmly. “Anyway, I was asked to deal with his furnishings on behalf of the estate.”
“You want to consign them?”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“A house call, huh? How many rooms are we talking about?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Oy.”
“I know. That’s why I called you. No one could do a better job on this than you.”
“I bet you say that to all your suppliers.”
“And wouldn’t you know, they all believe me,” said Nora.
Nora took a few minutes to discuss some of the furniture and a date for when Harriet could come and look at it. By the time she said good-bye her Town Car was pulling into Connor’s driveway.
As the driver grabbed her suitcase, she got out and headed for the front door. That’s when she saw the note from Craig Reynolds.
Please call me ASAP.
Chapter 50
THE BUZZ FROM my office phone was followed by Molly’s voice. “It’s her,” she announced.
I smiled. There was only one her she could be talking about. Nora was back in town. It was about time.
“Here’s what I want you to do, Molly,” I said. “Tell Ms. Sinclair I’ll be right with her. Then put her on hold and stare at your watch for forty-five seconds. After that, put her through.”
“You got it.”
I leaned back in my chair and gazed at the ceiling. It was composed of those white acoustic tiles that begged to have sharp pencils thrown up into them. I could’ve been taking the time to gather my thoughts, only that’s all I’d been doing the past week. There wasn’t a stray thought of mine within a hundred-mile radius.
Ring.
Thank you, Molly.
I picked up the phone and did my best impression of frenzied. “Nora, are you still there?”
“I’m still here,” she said. I could tell immediately she wasn’t very happy about having to wait.
“Bear with me for one more second, okay?”
I put her on hold again before she could object. Then I stared back up at the ceiling. One one thousand, two one thousand . . . At fifteen one thousand, I got back on the line and let out a deep breath.
“Gosh, I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Nora,” I said, now doing my best impression of apologetic. “I was finishing up with another client on the other line. I take it you got my note?”
“A few minutes ago, yes. I’m here at the house now.”
Time to test her lying ability. “How was your trip? Maryland, right?”
“Actually, it was Florida,” she said.
No. Actually, it was Boston, I wanted to say, but knew I couldn’t. Instead: “Oh, that’s right. Wouldn’t want to vote there! Was it a good trip?”
“Very much so.”
“You know I tried reaching you on that cell phone number you gave me—except it turned out to be somebody else’s.”
“That’s odd. What number were you dialing?”
“Let me check, I’ve got it right here.”
I read it back to Nora.
“That explains it,” she said. “The last two digits are eight-four, not four-eight. God, I hope it wasn’t me who mixed them up. I’m sorry if I did.”
Oh, she’s smooth.
“That’s okay. It was probably my mistake,” I said. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve suffered from digit dyslexia.”
“In any event, we’re talking now.”
“Yeah, we are. Anyway, the reason I wanted to speak to you was the insurance inquiry.”
“Is there news?”
“You could call it that.” I hesitated before going on. “Please don’t read too much into this, but