Just Take My Heart - Mary Higgins Clark [61]
Knowing Natalie, that made sense, Mike thought.
The prosecutor, Emily Wallace, had rattled Gregg. He'd admitted that much over the weekend in Vermont. It wasn't so much that Wal?lace looked like Natalie. Oh sure, in a general way, maybe there was something of a resemblance, Mike reflected, that struck me, too.
They were both lovely-looking women. They both had beautiful eyes and chiseled features. But Natalie's eyes had been green, and Emily Wallace's were midnight blue. They were both slender, but Emily Wallace is at least three inches taller than Natalie had been.
On the other hand, Natalie carried herself so gracefully and held her head so high that she always appeared to be taller than she actu?ally was.
Wallace's perfect posture also gave her a commanding presence. And there was something about the way she used her eyes that was compelling. Those side glances at the jury, as though she knew they were sharing her scorn for Gregg's hesitant answers, were downright theatrical.
But no one had used side glances to better advantage than Natalie . . .
It was starting to drizzle again and Michael quickened his pace. So much for the weatherman on our station, he thought. At least the one we had before him used to make better predictions. Or better guesses, he added wryly.
It occurred to him that another resemblance of sorts between Natalie and Emily Wallace was the way Wallace walked. She moved between the jury box and the witness stand like an actress on a stage.
A half block before he reached Gregg's apartment building, the rain turned into a near cloudburst. Michael began to run.
The longtime doorman saw him coming and held the door open for him. “Good evening, Mr. Gordon.”
“Hello, Alberto.”
“Mr. Gordon, I don't think I'll see Mr. Aldrich tonight. And I won't be on duty tomorrow morning when he leaves for court. Please give him my very best wishes. He's a fine gentleman. I've been work?ing here twenty years. That's even before he moved in. In my job you get to know what people are really like. It's a damn shame if that rotten liar Jimmy Easton can make a jury think that Mr. Aldrich ever brought him into this building.”
“I agree, Alberto. We'll keep our fingers crossed.”
As Michael walked through the tastefully appointed lobby and stepped into the elevator, he found himself praying that at least one person on the jury would feel the way Alberto did.
Gregg was waiting at the door when the elevator stopped on the fifteenth floor. He looked at Mike's dripping raincoat. “Don't they give you cab money at that cable station?” he asked with an attempt at a smile.
“I trusted our weatherman's forecast and decided to walk. A serious mistake.” Michael unbuttoned his coat and slipped it off. “I'll hang it over the tub,” he suggested. “I don't want it dripping on the floor.”
“Good idea. Katie and I are in the den. I was about to pour my second scotch.”
“While you're at it, pour me my first.”
“Consider it done.”
When Mike came into the den a few moments later, Gregg was sitting in his club chair. Katie, her eyes swollen with tears, was sit?ting on the hassock at his feet. She got up and ran to Mike. “Mike. Daddy said he thinks he's going to get convicted.”
“Hold on, hold on.” Gregg said, as he stood up. “Mike, your drink's over there.” He pointed to a table next to the couch. “Come back here, Katie.”
She obeyed, this time settling next to him in his chair.
“Mike, I'm pretty sure that you've been going over in your mind how to find something cheerful to say to me. I'll save you the trou?ble,” Gregg said quietly. “I know how bad it is. And I know I've been wrong not to face the fact that I could be convicted.”
Mike nodded. “I didn't want to bring that subject up to you, Gregg, but, yes, I've been worried.”
“Don't worry about not bringing it