I'll Walk Alone - Mary Higgins Clark [49]
“Oh, Bartley took over quite soon,” Nina Aldrich said. “Don’t forget, I hadn’t given the job to Moreland at that point. I was only considering hiring her. And now, Detective Collins, if you don’t mind — “
Billy interrupted her. “We’re on our way, Mrs. Aldrich.”
“Maria will see you out.”
The housekeeper escorted them down the hall and retrieved their coats from the closet. Although her face remained impassive, inwardly she was churning with anger. You bet Bartley Longe took right over from that nice young woman, she thought. Mrs. High-and-Mighty began having a fling with him after she let that nice young Moreland woman do all those design plans. She won’t admit it now, but she was going to turn down Moreland’s designs even before the child disappeared.
Jennifer began to button her coat. “Thank you, Ms. Garcia,” she said.
“Detective Collins,” Maria began, then stopped. She had been about to say that she was in the room when Mrs. Aldrich absolutely told Alexandra Moreland to meet her here, not at Beekman Place. But who would take my word against hers? Maria Garcia asked herself. Besides, what difference does it make? I saw those photos in the paper. There’s no question. Whatever her reason, Ms. Moreland stole her own child.
“Did you want to tell me anything, Ms. Garcia?” Billy asked.
“Oh, no, no. I just wanted to wish you both a nice day.”
33
He had tried Gloria again and again that evening, but the phone just rang. Was she playing a game with him? He finally reached her at midnight and was quick to notice that at some point her defiant bravado had collapsed. Her voice sounded tired and listless when she answered. “What do you want?”
He was careful to keep his tone moderated and warm. “Gloria, I know how tough this has been for you.” He was about to add that it had been tough for him, too, but clamped his teeth over that sentence. It would have given her an opening and, worse than that, a golden opportunity to rekindle her sense of being entrapped.
“Gloria,” he continued, “I’ve been thinking. I’m not going to give you two hundred thousand as we agreed. I’m going to triple it. I’m going to give you six hundred thousand dollars in cash by the end of next week.”
He was delighted to hear her astonished gasp. Was she stupid enough to really fall for it? “You only have one more thing to do,” he continued, “and that is to show up in the Franciscan church one more time about quarter of five. I’ll let you know what evening.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll go to confession again?”
If she were in this room, I’d kill her right now, he thought. Instead he laughed. “I looked it up. You’re right about the seal of the confessional.”
“Aren’t you torturing Matthew’s mother enough? Why do you have to kill her?”
Not for the same reason I’m going to kill you, he thought. You know too much. I’d never be sure that so-called conscience of yours wouldn’t start bubbling to the surface. As for Zan, I won’t be happy until they are planning her funeral.
“Gloria, I’m not going to kill her,” he said. “That was just angry talk.”
“I don’t believe you. I know how much you hate her.” The edge of anger and even panic was creeping back into Gloria’s voice.
“Gloria, how did we start this conversation? Let me remind you. I’m going to give you six hundred thousand dollars in cash, in genuine U.S. dollars, that you’ll be able to put in a safe-deposit box and live on while you give yourself a chance to do the only thing you really want to do and that is to walk across the stage in a Broadway play or on a movie set. You’re a beautiful woman. Unlike most of the look-alike Barbie dolls in Hollywood, you’re also a chameleon. You can look and walk and talk like someone else. You remind me of Helen Mirren in The Queen. You’ve got that level of talent. I’m asking you for a week. At the most ten days. I’ll want you to go to that church, and I’ll let you know what to wear. The minute you leave, it’s all over. We’ll meet someplace nearby and I’ll give you five thousand