Envy (43 page)

"Wait! That's not the only good news."

Nadia thrust her left hand across the table. "You failed to notice--or were too polite to mention--

that I'm wearing an obscenely enormous diamond ring. Morris and I are getting married next Sunday at the Plaza." She beamed at Morris, then turned back to Noah.

"Three o'clock. We'll be crushed if you're not there."

CHAPTER 33

_Damn _Michael _Strother.

Cursing his friend--former friend, it appeared--was the only fresh thought in Parker's mind. Angrily he switched off his computer, concluding another unproductive session of writing. He had sat all day, hands poised above the keyboard, waiting for a burst of inspiration that never came. It was a condition that was recurring with alarming frequency.

He had been working on the next Mackensie Roone book. Deck Cayton had turned

into a real dullard with nothing clever to say. He was no longer roguish or engaging. The villain wasn't innately evil; he was a caricature.

And the girl ... Parker didn't like the girl,

#either. She was shallow and stupid. #########743

He hadn't heard from Mike since he had announced his resignation and left the house. He hadn't composed a readable sentence since then, either.

The old man must have put a hex on him, something he'd learned from the Gullahs who lived on the southern tip of St. Anne. Mike had been fascinated by their language and customs, which had been passed from generation to generation dating back to their African ancestry. Parker dismissed spells and potions and such as hogwash. But maybe there was something to them after all.

When Mike was there, Parker had constantly sought solitude and silence in which to write. But it was amazing how much he missed having the old man puttering around. He found himself subconsciously listening for Mike's footsteps or the clang of pots and pans in the kitchen, the closing of a door, the whirr of the vacuum cleaner somewhere in the house. The sounds would be welcome distractions now. Comforts. Because he felt terribly alone.

Years back, while he lay in hospital

wards with strangers in neighboring beds, being attended by capable but impersonal nurses, he had felt utterly friendless. Completely alone.

That's when Hatred became his companion. His imaginary friend. His security blanket.

Through the years that followed, there were times when Hatred was an exhausting sidekick.

Particularly after he'd succeeded with the mystery series, he grew tired of it constantly hanging around, never going home. It grew to be a nuisance. He wished to be rid of it.

Sometimes he kicked it around, hoping that it would leave of its own accord, but it never did. It stayed, and he could never bring himself to abandon it.

Instead, he had fed it daily, keeping it loyal to him, until his relationship with it became codependent. It needed him to survive. He needed it for motivation.

Now Mike was gone, and he was left again with only Hatred, his trusty but parasitical ally.

He was feeling awfully sorry for himself, but the irony didn't escape him. His misery was self-imposed. "Poor you. But look at it this way, Parker," he whispered to himself. "The end is in sight."

The last die had been cast when he sent the _Envy manuscript to Noah. It was too late

#now for second-guessing. One way or ###745

another it would soon be over and he'd have closure. Everything he had done, said, or written in the past fourteen years had been with this goal in mind. It all funneled down to here and now.

Whatever the outcome, whether in his favor or not, it hadn't come cheaply. He had achieved worldwide acclaim, yet no one knew his name.

He had sacrificed fame in exchange for anonymity. He had money but nothing to spend it on. He owned a beautiful house, but it wasn't a home. He shared the empty rooms with only a hanging man's ghost. His need for vengeance had cost him his one true friend. Ultimately it had cost him Maris.

He missed her with a physical ache. If he were a woman or a child, he would cry himself to sleep each night. He moved through the house touching things he had seen her touch, inhaling deeply in the hope of catching a whiff of her fragrance. He was pathetic, as daffy as Professor Hadley's jilted aunt who lived in the attic with only bittersweet memories and her fear of fresh fruit.

Maris had been essential to his plot, but he hadn't expected her to become essential to him. In the brief time she had been in his life, she had become the most important element of it.

_Second _most _important, he

corrected.

If she were the most important, he would leave Noah to the devil as Mike had advised and spend the rest of his life loving her and letting himself be loved. At night when he couldn't sleep, he'd get downright sappy. He

envisioned them on the beach, tossing a stick to a golden retriever and supervising a couple of sturdy, laughing kids building a sand castle.

A greeting-card tableau. A Kodak

commercial.

Too often for his mental health, he relived making love to her. God, it had been sweet.

But perhaps the sweetest part had been holding her.

Just that. Holding her close. Feeling her heartbeat beneath his hand, her breath against his skin.

Allowing himself to forget for a few moments that he had only this one night with her and that, come morning, he would hurt her terribly and irreparably.

Maris was the one plot element that might have

#caused him to change his outline and end the ###747

thing differently.

But he couldn't have even if he'd wanted to.

Because the revenge he sought wasn't only for himself.

It was for Mary Catherine. He might not deserve restitution, but Sheila damn sure did.

By most moral measuring sticks, she would come up short. But he knew better. That spectacular body had been home to a kind and generous spirit. In many respects, she was innocent.

And Noah had killed her.

As surely as he had killed Daniel

Matherly.

Parker hoped that Maris and the authorities were thoroughly investigating Matherly's death, because Noah's account of it smelled to high heaven. It stank of Noah. It was doubtful they'd find anything that implicated him. He would make certain they didn't. He would have made the old man's death look like a tragic accident, and his explanation for how it had come about would be perfectly plausible. He was gifted that way.

Overt aggression wasn't his style. He was smarter and more subtle than that. Oh, he could hold his own in a fistfight. Parker still had the scar above his eyebrow to prove it. But Noah's real power wasn't physical. It was cerebral.

His strength was his cunning. He maneuvered insidiously. You didn't see him coming until it was too late. Which made him the most dangerous kind of animal on the planet.

But he had a major flaw: his intolerance for anyone getting the best of him.

When Noah read the _Envy manuscript, he would come south on the next flight. He'd be unable to resist. The book would be a red flag waved in his face, and it simply wasn't in Noah Reed to ignore it.

During these intervening years, if Noah thought of Parker at all, he had probably imagined him as he'd last seen him--a vanquished enemy, a threat he had eliminated.

If for no other reason, he would come to St.

Anne out of curiosity. He'd come to see how old Parker had fared. He would come to see for himself what his wife had found so interesting about his former roommate.

Noah would come.

And when he got here, Parker would be waiting.

749

Eight o'clock classes were just about to convene when Maris parked her rental car in a lot reserved for campus visitors. It was the summer session, so there weren't as many students rushing into the classroom buildings as there would be when the fall semester began after Labor Day.

Although she had never been here before, she didn't need to be oriented or to ask for directions. The university campus wasn't similar to the one described in _Envy. It _was the one described in _Envy.

And it was a long way from the police station in rural Massachusetts where she had been less than twenty-four hours ago.

With Noah's words replaying inside her head, __his death was _convenient, she'd driven back to New York with a sense of urgency. Using her cell phone, she had reserved her airline ticket to Nashville as she sped down the parkway, breaking every speed limit between Chief Randall's police department and the Matherly Press offices in Midtown Manhattan.

She had planned to be in the office only long enough to consult briefly with her assistant and check her mail, before returning to Daniel's house to pack, then to dash to the airport in time for the late evening flight.

It didn't quite go according to plan.

Her appearance in the office had galvanized her assistant. "Thank God you're here.

I've been trying to reach you on your cell."

"My battery ran out about an hour ago."

"Don't move." The secretary placed a call. "Tell Mr. Stern she just came in."

She depressed the hold button. "He told me it was mandatory that he speak with you today, Maris."

"Concerning what? Did he say?"

"No, but he's been calling since early morning. He assumed you'd be coming in."

"I had an errand out of town." She hadn't had time for a lengthy conversation with the attorney and had said so.

Her assistant apologized. "He made me swear to notify him the moment I spoke to you.

He'll be on line two."

Maris went into her office and sat down behind her desk. And it was fortunate that she'd been seated, because the news Stern had imparted was staggering.

###"Mr. Matherly had in mind #########751

to announce his decision when you returned from Georgia. I think he wanted it to be a ceremonious occasion. Unhappily, he didn't have that opportunity, but, as it turns out, his timing for putting this into place was extraordinary." He paused, then said, "I hope you're pleased."

She was deeply touched to know that her father had placed so much confidence in her. "Enormously."

Stern had continued to go over the details with her, but the important thing she heard was that her father had entrusted her with the business that had been his life's work. She wouldn't take the responsibility lightly. But very proudly.

Stern had coughed delicately, then said,

"It's at your discretion whether or not to keep Mr. Reed on staff. Mr. Matherly

intimated to me that having him there even in a menial position might be awkward for you considering your pending divorce."

So he had known. Of course he had known. His timing hadn't been as extraordinary as Mr.

Stern believed. Probably Daniel had been planning this for some time, realizing that upon the dissolution of her marriage, an ugly battle for control would have been waged. Daniel had seen to it that such a battle would never take place.

"Frankly, your father no longer trusted Mr.

Reed to perform in the best interest of the publishing house," the lawyer had told her. "But, as I said, his continuance with the company is up to you."

They had talked a few minutes longer.

Maris wrapped it up by saying, "Thank you, Mr. Stern. Thank you very much."

"No thanks necessary. I hope you'll want me to continue in my present capacity."

"That goes without saying."

"I'm honored." He paused, then asked,

"Tell me, Ms. Matherly, how does it feel to be one of the most powerful women in New York?"

She laughed. "Right now? I feel very rushed to make a flight."

Following that conversation and a swift delegation of duties to her assistant, she opted to leave her car in the parking garage near the office building and take a cab to Daniel's house.

Where another shock had awaited her.

As she was jogging up the steps of the brownstone, a limousine had pulled to the curb. Nadia

#Schuller alighted before the chauffeur had ###753

time to come around and open the door for her.

"Hello, Maris."

She was dressed in a black dress and

cocktail hat that on anyone else would have looked ridiculous. Nadia had the panache to wear it.

"I understand why you don't want to talk to me.

I know you think of me as something to be scraped off the sole of your shoe. But I need one minute of your time."

"I don't have one minute. I'm in a hurry."

"Please. I fortified myself with two martinis before I came."

Maris debated it for several seconds, then reluctantly agreed to hear her out.

She had listened with dismay as Nadia told her about her breakfast meeting with Daniel. "I was told he'd had a mystery guest. You would have been the last person I would have guessed."

"Me, too. I was floored when he called and extended the invitation. I got the feeling that he was sneaking me in while his housekeeper was out. But the real shocker came when he told me about this bogus document Noah was going to press him to sign. He then offered me an exclusive on your promotion. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"The story about the transfer of power will run in my column tomorrow. Mr. Matherly asked me to hold it for a week. I agreed. Of course, when I did, I had no idea that ... that he wouldn't be here to read it."

Maris had been further surprised to see tears in Nadia's eyes that even her veil couldn't conceal. "Your father was a gentleman, Maris. Even toward me." She covered her mouth with her hand for several seconds before continuing. "I wish I had warned him not to go."

"With Noah?"

She nodded. "Maybe even more than you, I know how treacherous Noah can be. I never thought he would go so far as to commit murder. But when I heard the circumstances of Mr. Matherly's death, I wondered."

"So did I."

"Noah said as much."

Maris then told her about hers and Noah's meeting with the Massachusetts police. "If he

#did push Dad down those stairs, he ####755

got away with it."

"That morning, as I told your father good-bye, I should have said something. Should have warned him." Her eyes pleaded with Maris for absolution.

"I had a chance to warn him, too, Nadia.

I didn't, either."

"I guess all of us underestimated Noah."

"I guess."

"By the way, he and I are history."

"I don't care."

Nadia nodded, one woman understanding another's scorn because it was deserved. "Just before coming here, I had the pleasure of telling him about the shift of power from your father to you. I don't think he took it well. Be careful, Maris."