Three Fates

  With her destination already in mind, she turned south on Fifth. And lost Mikey briefly when he glued himself to a jewelry store window.

  “Stay with me, and don’t be such a girl.” She gave one of his dreads a tug. “This is serious business.”

  “Ooh, you sound all cold and tough,” Mikey commented. “Like Joan Crawford or—no, no Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity. A woman with balls.”

  “Shut up, Mikey,” she ordered and bit back a snicker as Anita Gaye came on the line.

  “Cleo.” The voice didn’t sound cold or tough, but soft and warm as velvet. “I can’t tell you how delighted I am to hear from you.”

  Cleo considered it a good sign Anita had agreed to the terms of the meeting without hesitation. She thought of the wild race across Europe and shook her head. Men, she decided. They had to flex their muscles, turn a simple business deal into an altercation.

  No wonder the world was so screwed up.

  SHE FELT A little foolish with her choice of arenas. But Mikey was getting such a kick out of it all now, she deemed it worth it.

  “An Affair to Remember. Cary Grant, Deborah Kerr.” He stood on the observation level of the Empire State Building, arms spread, dreads flying. “That’s romance, baby.”

  And the difference between them, Cleo mused, was that the spot reminded her not of poignant romance but of King Kong’s fatal obsession with Faye Wray.

  She considered Faye Wray’s character a moron. Cringing and screaming on the ledge—waiting for the big, strong man to rescue her, Cleo thought, instead of getting her ass moving when the idiot ape set her down.

  Well, it took all kinds.

  “You go stand over there, keep me in sight. When she shows, I’ll give you a sign if she gives me any grief. Then you can hulk over and help me out.” She checked the Wonder Woman watch Mikey had lent her. “She’ll be here any minute. If she’s on time, we’ll stay on schedule. I’ve got a good half hour before I’m supposed to meet Gideon.”

  “What are you going to tell him?”

  “Same old, same old, until I have the cash in hand. I can stall him for another twenty-four hours, and that’s the deadline I’ll give Anita.”

  “A million smackeroos is a lot to put together in a day, Cleo.”

  “We’re talking Morningside here, and that spells beau-coup dinero. She wants the Fate, she’ll find a way. I’m going to stand over there and practice looking bored.”

  She wandered to the safety rail, leaned back on it and watched the elevator through the glass. Tourists swarmed the souvenir shop inside or stood outside snapping pictures, shoving coins into the telescopes.

  She wondered if anyone who lived in the city ever came here unless they were dragged along by out-of-towners. And she wondered why anyone felt compelled to come all the way up here when all the action, all the life, all the meaning was down on the streets.

  Her belly tightened when she saw the spiffy-looking woman step out of the elevator. Anita had said she’d be wearing a blue suit. The number was blue all right—smoke blue with a long, sleek jacket, a tube of a skirt cut at a conservative length.

  Valentino, Cleo decided. All richly understated and whispering of class.

  She waited while Anita slipped on dark glasses and stepped out into the wind. Watched while the woman scanned the area, the faces, and honed in on her.

  She shifted the slim leather portfolio bag on her shoulder and crossed over. “Cleo Toliver?”

  “Anita Gaye.” Cleo accepted the handshake while the two women measured each other.

  “I almost expected to have to exchange passwords.” There was a trace of humor in the tone as Anita glanced around. “You know, this is the first time I’ve been up here. What is the point?”

  Since it so clearly mirrored her own sentiments, Cleo nodded. “You got that right. But it seemed like a good place to do a little private business in a public place. A place where we’d both feel comfortable.”

  “We’d both feel more comfortable at a table at Raphael’s, but I imagine Gideon’s filled you with trepidation about dealing with me.” Anita spread her arms, looking chic, attractively windblown and amused. “As you can see, I’m no threat.”

  “The muscle you had chase us down in Prague didn’t seem very friendly.”

  “An unfortunate miscommunication, which often happens when you’re dealing with men, doesn’t it?” Anita tucked her hair behind her ear. “My representatives were instructed to stop by your place of employment and speak to you. No more, no less. Apparently Gideon, and they, became a little overexcited. In point of fact, Cleo, my representatives thought you were being abducted, and pursued.”

  “Is that right?”

  “A miscue, as I said. In any case, I’m happy you’re back in New York safe and sound. I’m sure you and I can discuss the matter without the histrionics.” She glanced around again. “Gideon’s not with you?”

  “I brought someone else, in case of histrionics.” She could see Mikey over Anita’s shoulder. He stood several feet away elaborately flexing his biceps. “First, what made you track me down and instruct your representatives to speak with me?”

  “A hunch, after considerable research. Both are vital in my business. This meeting today makes me assume both were accurate. Do you have the Fate, Cleo?”

  If there’d been more time, Cleo would’ve made her work harder, for form’s sake. “I’ve got it in a safe place. I’m willing to sell it. One million dollars, cash.”

  Anita let out a laughing breath. “A million dollars? Gideon certainly told you some fairy tales.”

  “Don’t try to hose me, Anita. You want the statue, that’s the price. Nonnegotiable. That gives you two of three since you’ve already stolen one from Gideon’s brother.”

  “Stolen?” Annoyance flashed through her as she turned to pace. As she paced, she scanned the others on the deck, trying to pick out Cleo’s backup. “Those Sullivans. I should sue them for slander. Morningside’s reputation is above reproach. And so is mine,” she added tightly as she stopped to face Cleo again. “I purchased that statue from Malachi Sullivan and will be happy to produce the signed receipt. For all I know he may very well have told his brother some trumped-up story and kept the money for himself. But I will not have them spreading vicious lies about my company.”

  “How much did you pay him?”

  “Less.” She seemed to draw herself in. “Considerably less than your asking price.”

  “Then you got a bargain first time out. You get number two, you pay. You can have her in your hands tomorrow, three o’clock, right here in this spot. You bring the cash, I bring the girl.”

  “Cleo.” Anita’s lips curved thinly. “I’ve dealt with the Sullivans. How do I know you’re not as underhanded as they? I have no assurance you actually have the Fate.”

  Saying nothing, Cleo reached in her bag and took out the photograph.

  “Lachesis,” Anita murmured as she studied the photo. “How do I know this is authentic?”

  “I guess you play your hunch. Look, my grandmother gave it to me when I was a kid. She had a couple of loose screws and thought about it like a doll. Up until about a week ago, I considered it a sort of good-luck charm. A million buys me a hell of a lot of luck.”

  Anita continued to study the picture as she considered her options. The rundown confirmed what Cleo’s father had told Anita during a long evening of perfectly prepared coq au vin, a superior Pinot Noir and mediocre sex. Interestingly, the man hadn’t known that his daughter was in New York, or had been in Prague. In fact, he couldn’t have been less informed or concerned about his only child’s whereabouts or well-being.

  Which meant, handily, no one was likely to look if Cleo Toliver suddenly disappeared.

  “I assume the Fate is yours, legally.”

  Cleo arched her eyebrows. “Possession and all that.”

  “Yes.” Anita smiled and couldn’t have agreed more. “Of course.”

  She took the picture back, tucked
it in her bag. “Your call, Anita.”

  “That’s a lot of money in a short amount of time. We can meet tomorrow—that table at Raphael’s. You bring the statue so I can examine it, I’ll bring a quarter million as deposit.”

  “All, straight exchange, right here at three. Or I put it on the open market.”

  “I’m a professional dealer—”

  “I’m not,” Cleo interrupted. “And I’ve got another appointment. Fish or cut bait.”

  “All right. But I’m not carrying that kind of cash into this place.” She looked around, a faint line of annoyance between her perfect eyebrows. “A restaurant, Cleo. Let’s be civilized. You pick the spot if you don’t trust me.”

  “That’s reasonable. Teresa’s in the East Village. I’ve got a yen for some goulash. Make it one o’clock.”

  “One o’clock.” Anita offered her hand again. “And if you decide to give up the theater, I could use someone like you at Morningside.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll stick with what I know. See you tomorrow.”

  She waited until Anita was back in the elevator. Then she counted to ten, slowly. When she turned to where Mikey was waiting, she broke out in a grin.

  She did a quick tap-shuffle in his direction. “Kiss me, baby, I’m rich!”

  “She went for it?”

  “All the way. Put up a struggle, but not much of one. Overreacted to some stuff, underreacted to others.” She hooked her arm through Mikey’s. “She’s not as good as she thinks she is. She’ll cough up the dough because I’ve got what she wants.”

  “I never got the chance to hulk and look mean.”

  “Sorry, you’d’ve been great.” She walked with him through the souvenir shop to the elevators. “You know the first thing I’m going to do when I get the money? I’m throwing a big, kick-ass party. No, first I’m buying a place, then I’m throwing a big, kick-ass party.”

  “Guess you won’t be heading out to the cattle calls anymore.”

  “You kidding?” She squeezed in the elevator car with him. “Let me wallow in it for a week, maybe two. Then I’m going to every audition my agent can push me into. You know how it is, Mikey. Gotta dance.”

  “I can get you a shot at the chorus of Kiss Me, Kate.”

  “No shit? That’d be great! When?”

  “Let me put the word in with the director tonight.”

  “Told you my luck was changing.” She rode on it all the way down to ground level.

  “I’ve got to split,” she said on the street. “Go meet Slick.”

  “Why don’t you come to the show tonight? I’ll get you a couple house seats and introduce you to the director.”

  “Cool. I love you, Mikey.” She gave him a long, noisy kiss. “Look, I’ll meet you back at your place in a few hours. I’m going to buy a big bottle of champagne.”

  “Buy two. We’ll get toasted after the show.”

  “That’s a deal. I love you, Mikey.”

  “I love you, Cleopatra.”

  He headed west, she headed east. As she crossed the street, she glanced back, laughing like a loon when he threw her a kiss. With a spring in her step she started uptown. Right on schedule, she thought. She’d meet Gideon on the east corner of Fifty-first and Fifth, maybe grab some pizza. She’d tell him she needed another day or two to get the statue.

  He wouldn’t like it, but she’d smooth it out. And when she handed him four hundred thousand dollars the next day, he’d have no room to bitch.

  She’d talk him into staying in New York for a while. Maybe Mikey was right about the thing between them. Not the romance part, that wasn’t in the cards. But she had a good feeling when she was with him. She liked the steady side of him as much as she liked the reckless one. What was wrong with wanting a little more time with both?

  The glint from a jewelry display caught her eye, had her moving toward the window. She’d buy Mikey something to thank him for the help. Something extravagant.

  She brooded over the gold neck chains—too ordinary—and the flash of stones—too gaudy. Slowing her pace, she browsed from window to window, then let out a little ah ha! at the wink of a thin gold anklet with ruby cabochons.

  Tailor-made for Mikey, she decided and tilted her head in hopes of seeing the price tag tucked discreetly under the chain.

  She froze that way, her nose all but pressed to the window, her body in a slight dip as she caught a reflection in the glass.

  She knew that face. Though he was turned away from her in profile, as if studying the traffic, she recognized him. They’d all but run over him on the street in Prague.

  Shit, shit, shit! She straightened, then moved casually on, as if to study the offerings in the next display. He didn’t follow, but angled his body a little more toward her.

  Anita fucking Gaye, she thought. So businesslike, the professional dealer. And she’d sent out one of her goons. Well, that was fine, that was great, because this was New York. This was her turf.

  She sauntered as if she had all the time in the world. He was following now, she noted, and careful to keep pace. She kept sauntering right into the International Jewelry Exchange, meandering into the babble of voices, down the crowded aisles between booths. He kept half the store between them, shaking his head, scowling when the merchants began their pitch.

  And she sprinted. Her long legs ate up the distance to the side door. She was through it and loping across the street and muscling aside a man who was about to climb into a cab.

  While he stumbled back, shouted at her, she slammed the cab door. “Step on it! Get me five blocks down in under a minute, I got twenty dollars.” She pulled a bill out of her pocket, waved it even as she glanced over and saw her tail running across the street. For added incentive, she shoved the twenty into the security slot. “Move!”

  He moved.

  “Cut over to Park,” she ordered, swiveling around on her knees to watch out the rear window. “Go up to Fifty-first and cut back to Fifth. Yeah, baby.” She waved as he charged down the cross street. “Already huffing and puffing.”

  Still she watched until they hit Madison. When they turned onto Park, she dropped back down on the seat. “Fifty-first and Fifth,” she repeated coolly. “Drop me on the east corner.”

  “That’s a hell of a ride, lady, for a couple blocks.”

  “You get what you pay for.”

  She popped out on the corner, grabbed Gideon’s hand.

  “You’re late,” he began, but she was already running. “What’s going on?”

  “Taking a subway ride, Slick. You haven’t been to New York until you do.”

  Summer tourists were thronged around Rockefeller Center. All the better for cover, she decided—if they needed it. Then she whipped him down the stairs of the subway stop at 50 Rock.

  “My treat,” she added and dug out the fare for both of them. When they were through the turnstiles on the platform, she caught her breath. “We’ll get off at Washington Square. Bop around the Village. Give you a real tour, grab some lunch.”

  “Why?”

  “Because a girl’s gotta eat.”

  “Why did we run like maniacs into the tube to ride a train to a village?”

  “The Village, you alien. And we’re taking a ride to make sure I’ve thrown off the shadow. I was doing a little window-shopping on Fifth, and who should I see but one of our friends from Prague.”

  He grabbed her as the rumble of the approaching train shook the air. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. He’s got a face like a pie plate. Flat, round and shiny. I ditched him, but maybe he circled around, so better safe than sorry.”

  She pushed through into the car, dropped down on a seat. She patted the place beside her.

  “What have you done, Cleo?”

  “What do you mean, what’ve I done? I just told you. Imagine that asshole thinking he could tag me in my city.”

  “And he just happened to be walking down the same street at the same time as you? I don’t think so.”
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  “Actually, Fifth is an avenue as opposed to a—”

  His hand tightened on her arm, a hard warning. “What have you done? Where’s Mikey?”