I'll Walk Alone - Mary Higgins Clark [41]
“Neither can I,” Rebecca agreed.
As they had expected, the photos taken in Central Park allegedly showing Alexandra Moreland lifting her son Matthew out of the stroller were the lead story on the evening news. “I wonder what she did with him, poor kid?” Penny sighed as she swallowed a succulent bite of pot roast.
“Moreland wouldn’t be the first mother to kill her own child,” Rebecca said soberly. “Do you think she was nuts enough to do that?”
Penny did not answer. Something about those photos was bothering her. What is it? she asked herself. But then the segment about the missing child ended and she clicked the television off with a shrug. “Who needs three minutes of sales pitches about sex pills and nose sprays?” she asked Rebecca. “Then you hear all the problems that stuff can give you, like heart attacks and ulcers and strokes, and you wonder who would be dopey enough to buy them.”
For the rest of the meal the two good friends gossiped about their mutual friends in town, and whatever it was about the photographs that had disturbed Penny retreated into her subconscious.
30
The meeting Bartley Longe had been conducting in his office when Toby Grissom stopped in to inquire about his missing daughter lasted all morning. Then, contrary to his usual pattern, instead of going out, Bartley ordered a lunch delivered from a nearby restaurant.
As was their habit, his secretary, Elaine, and the receptionist, Phyllis, shared their diet-conscious salads in the kitchenette down the hall from the reception room. A weary-looking Elaine confided that Bartley was in as terrible a mood as she’d ever seen him and that was saying a lot. He had bitten off poor Scott’s head when Scott suggested not putting valances in the smaller bedrooms of the Rush-more job, and he tore Bonnie apart over the fabric designs she chose for him to approve. Both of them were almost in tears. “He’s treating them the way he treated Zan,” she said.
“Scott and Bonnie are not going to last any longer than all the other assistants he’s had since Zan,” Phyllis said vehemently. “But I’ve been looking at those photos in the newspapers. He’s right about one thing. There’s no question but that Zan stole her own child. I only hope she left him with someone she can trust.”
“I blame Bartley for causing her to have a breakdown,” Elaine said sadly. “And you know what’s crazy? In the midst of all that was going on with Scott and Bonnie, he kept the television on the whole morning. It was on mute, so there was no sound, but he kept an eye on it and the minute those photos of Zan taking Matthew were shown, he was all attention.”
“Is that what has him all fired up today?” Phyllis asked. “I thought he would be thrilled to see that Zan was lying about Matthew.”
“You wouldn’t believe how much he hates Zan, and how he loves to see her twisting in the wind. And actually it was when Scott suggested that those photos might have been staged that Bartley lost it. Don’t forget Zan just bid against him for that job with Kevin Wilson. If Zan could somehow prove those photos are phonies and she gets that job, it will be a horrible blow for Bartley. There’s no question about that. There are at least four younger designers besides Zan who have been cutting into his business.”
Phyllis glanced at her watch. “I’d better get back to the desk. I swear he begrudges me breaking for lunch, even though if anyone rings the doorbell, I can buzz it open in about ten seconds. But first, do you remember someone named Brittany La Monte?”
Elaine sipped the last of her diet soda. “Brittany La Monte? Oh sure I do. She started out doing makeup for the models or would-be actresses that Bartley hired to serve cocktails and hors d’oeuvres when he was showing off those model apartments a couple of years ago. Just between us, I think Bartley took a big shine to Brittany. He told her he thought she was prettier than