I'll Walk Alone - Mary Higgins Clark [67]
Without any good-bye, Melissa’s phone went dead.
Ted leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Think, he told himself. Think. Get control of yourself. Consider the consequences if she goes ahead with this. If I could only afford to quit right now. If I could only afford to kiss her good-bye. If only I didn’t have to put up with her moods and tantrums and outbursts and have to cover her backside when she makes a fool of herself …
He touched the REDIAL button on his cell phone. As he expected, Melissa did not answer. “Leave a message” was the response he heard. At the signal he took a deep breath. “Baby,” he began, his tone wheedling, “you know how much I love you and how every minute of my life is dedicated to building you up to be the number one star that you deserve to be. But I also want the public to know the sweet and generous side of you. I can’t begin to thank you for this breathtaking offer, but as your lover, your best friend, your publicist, I want you to think about making this offer in a different way.”
A beep told him that his allotted time to leave a message was up. Gritting his teeth, Ted pressed REDIAL again. “Sweetheart, I have an idea that will have a long-lasting effect. We’ll call a press conference tomorrow or whenever you want to arrange the meeting. At it, you announce that you are donating five million dollars immediately to the Foundation for Missing Children. Every parent of a missing child will love you and that way you won’t have to respond to the sleazes who will try to turn your generosity into something it isn’t. Think about it, darling. And call me.”
Ted Carpenter turned off his cell phone and managed to wait until he reached home before he went into the bathroom and became violently sick to his stomach. Minutes later, chilled and shaking, he went into the bedroom and picked up the phone.
Rita Moran answered, her voice motherly and concerned. “Ted, I saw you on the breaking news on the Internet. You look terrible. How are you doing now?”
“Just as bad as I look. I’m going to bed. No calls at all unless …”
Rita finished the sentence for him. “Unless the witch dials from her broom.”
“She won’t for a while. Some commonsense advice I gave her may be filtering into her brain as we speak.”
“How about your appointment with that Jaime-boy nut?”
“It’s been canceled, or maybe just postponed.” He knew that Rita understood the financial ramifications of losing that potential client.
“Maybe it’s just been postponed.”
Ted caught the false hardiness in her tone. She was the only one of his employees who knew the degree to which the purchase of the building had been a big drain and a horrible mistake. “Who knows?” he asked. “I’ll talk to you later. Zan is being questioned by the detectives right now. If Collins or Dean happens to call, tell them they can reach me here.”
Stripping off his clothes to his underwear, he got into bed and pulled the covers around him until only the top of his head was showing.
For the next four hours, he dozed intermittently.
Then at three o’clock, his phone rang again.
It was Detective Collins.
45
Zan remembered keenly the kindness with which Detectives Billy Collins and Jennifer