Adduné - the Vampire's Game (44 page)

She saw the opening and went for it.

“
Just like you to complain when it’s Cheryl that will be doing all the work! You just admitted so yourself. Bye and speak to you soon!”

Miranda hung up before Reginald could reply, feeling good about getting the best of him today. It wasn’t often she did.

Miranda took advantage of the late check-out time and stayed lounging in her hotel room until it was time to leave. She indulged in a long, soaking bath using the jet spray on her lithe, young body. The jets pounded hot water loosening and soothing her tight muscles. She got out and towel dried herself being sure to layer on tons of body lotion. The hotel provided a fragrant lemon verbena lotion that worked as aromatherapy to awaken her and keep her feeling fresh. She expertly applied the little make-up she wore in the daytime contemplating whether she should text Tiffany with the new time of her arrival. She decided against it. She’d surprise her. She’d also decided on surprising Jake, the bastard.

After dressing, she checked out and drove her rental car to Fairfield Museum instead of the airport. She had called his office several times to see if Jake was in and was told he hadn’t yet arrived. She didn’t want to try his personal cell phone. She resigned herself to leaving his precious watch with his assistant and flying to New York without seeing him. She was relieved that on her last call, she was told that Jake had finally crawled in around noon. It would make what she had to do that much easier.

Miranda used her signal and took a left turn wondering if it was that business associate he’d exchanged phone numbers with that caused his tardiness. If it was, she pondered whether she’d made it into her job on time and whether she was even able to walk. She knew what Jake was like when aroused. She supposed it didn’t matter and wondered if walking would be her only problem given Jake’s sexual preferences. She hoped she’d worn knee pads to prevent rug burns.

Miranda parked and bounded up the museum stairs. She was cheerily greeted and waved on into Jake’s office by his assistant, Theresa, who recognized her immediately. She knocked on the door hearing a very bleak voice telling her to come in.

She raced into the office and immediately saw what caused the strangled note in Jake’s voice. He was sick – or hungover. Either way, he was a mess.

“
My goodness! Jake, are you alright? You look horrible!” she said scooting around to the other side of the desk. She needed to get a closer look at her ex-boy toy that clearly was hurting.

“
I feel even worse,” he managed to rasp. There was a gravelly roughness to his voice that certainly wasn’t there yesterday – or any other day she’d spoken to him.

She gently ran her hands through his uncombed hair. His clothes looked wrinkled and disheveled. There was an old woolen muffler wrapped around his throat. His prominent chin was almost covered by it. Miranda surmised his throat must be sore and needing warmth. His voice denoted the onset of laryngitis.

She bent over being careful not to knock over the cup of hot tea on his desk, and gave him a mild hug. She knew what it felt like when coming down with an illness and didn’t want to make things worse by using unnecessary roughness. She stroked the sides of his face not quite believing her eyes. His skin was so pale. It looked lifeless and stretched over bones that were too large for it to cover. His eyes were sunken back into his face and held none of the vibrancy that they usually exuded. The light within them had been extinguished. It looked for all the world as if he’d had the life sucked out of him.

Something about the situation was reminding her of that bloody dream – and that was something she wanted to forget. She shivered, fighting off the feeling of panic traversing her body. She tried to calm herself by telling herself it was just a virus. People do get sick. It was just the timing that was getting to her. She attempted to lighten the mood if only to dilute her own anxiety.

“
I don’t usually give advice, but I’d say Priscilla isn’t worth this. Was she that infectious as to pass on the Black Plague?”

Jake rolled his bloodshot eyes and grabbed his head.

“
Priscilla? Who the hell is Priscilla? Oh, you mean, Phyllis.”

“
Sorry, I can’t keep your women straight.”

“
Whatever and, no. I wasn’t with anyone last night. I went straight home – a little after you left actually.”

Miranda felt guilty for making her snide remark. He was clearly in pain. She wondered why he had even come into work, but then remembered that he was a workaholic. It was one of his best attributes.

“
Oh, Jake, I’m truly sorry I cast aspersions upon the vestal virgin. I meant you and not
Priscilla
.” She placed her hand on his forehead expecting to feel a high temperature. He felt the opposite – he was icy cold. “Jake, is the light hurting your eyes? Is that why the drapes are closed?”

Jake let his head loll back on his headrest.

“
Yeah, my head is killing me. No joke, Mandy. You think it was the food?”

“
Have you been throwing up?”

“
No, just tired.”

“
I don’t see how it could be then. I ate it and I’m fine. Was Theresa deluged with calls from wealthy patrons dropping in their tracks?”

“
No,” he squeaked, his voice breaking.

His voice must be really hurting him. Miranda felt terrible that he was suffering – even if he was a dirty cad.

“
Oh, my poor sick baby,” Miranda said as she stood and leaned over. She kissed the top of his head. “Did that make you feel any better?”

He shook his head from side-to-side.

“
You’re direct anyway.” Miranda reached into her purse and held out his watch. “I came to give you this. Found it last night and thought you might like to have it back. Wouldn’t want that detective sicced on my trail.”

“
I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy. Thanks.”

He pushed his head up and leaned forward attempting to put the watch on his wrist. It slid off his wrist and hit the desktop instead. He’d lost his coordination and strength overnight, but he couldn’t be that weak. It seemed he was because he couldn’t manage so simple a task on the second or third try either. He thwarted Miranda’s attempt at helping him and placed the watch in his pocket rather than attempting a fourth.

“
Look, there was another reason I came by.”

“
Which is?”

“
To have a look at the red egg in the collection. The forgery. Might I have a peek?”

“
Why not? It’s yours. I’ll buzz downstairs and make sure they give you carte blanche, baby.”

“
Thanks, Jake.”

“
Yeah, right.”

“
I’ll be in touch.”

“
Do that,” he said easing back into his chair and closing his eyes. He looked as if he were sliding into a much needed sleep. His hand reached for the phone.

“
Jake, seriously, I’d go home if I were you. And if you haven’t called a doctor, think about it. You really do not look well. I’m not saying this to be mean or to hurt your feelings, I’m really concerned. I do care about you, Jake.”

Jake opened his eyes after much effort. He looked at her through the tiny slits.

“
Thanks, Miranda. Did you know you have a lot of class?”

She saw Jake struggling to smile. She drew her lips back slightly. She didn’t feel like doing more than that since the occasion did not call for a huge, loopy grin. She kept her tentative smile and shook her head no in response to his question.

“
No, but you certainly do. And as for seeing a doctor, please think about it at least. I’m sure there must be one in Fairfield.”

Miranda took one more look at him before she left. She really didn’t like the rapid deterioration in his appearance, but realized that some illnesses come on quickly. There was a stomach virus she’d caught – she’d looked much like Jake did. She might have felt like she wanted to die, but she hadn’t.

Miranda left Jake to take stock of his own condition. She went downstairs where she examined the egg – in the daylight this time. She took out her cell phone and snapped a few pictures of the mark. The delicate piece looked even better in this light than in that cellar dungeon. She felt Reginald and her father were both wrong. She was familiar with Fabergé’s mark and it seemed identical.

She left and got into her rental. Buckling up, she hoped that Jake would go home and get some sleep. He’d be no good to anyone in the condition he was in. She checked her watch. She needed to hurry to catch her flight. She revved the engine and hit the gas. New York and her best friend were waiting for her and Miranda did not want to be late.

CHAPTER 23

Miranda’s cab driver expertly negotiated the tangle of trucks, cars, and other taxis as he raced down Madison Avenue. He made record time in getting her to her small, Park Avenue, two-bedroom condo in one piece. Miranda received a warm greeting from the doorman, Jimmy Grieves. He’d been on the job for two years and had been on the receiving end of Miranda’s year-end holiday tips. He was a young, smart kid who knew which side his bread was buttered. He remembered and reciprocated the people that looked out for his welfare by looking out for theirs.

With Jimmy’s help, she made it upstairs. She saw that the trusty maid service she’d hired to come in once a week and freshen-up was doing their job and was grateful. She loathed descending upon a filthy apartment that was covered in dust and New York debris. Instead of grime, her nose was treated to the lemony smell of cleanser, and her eyes to the reflective shine of her own image in the immaculate hardwood foyer. It had been recently polished.

She made tea and unpacked, feeling a new sense of relief and relaxation in her comfy digs. She loved looking out on Central Park. She stepped out onto her small Juliet balcony and admired the cluster of trees and greenery. It resembled the south of France. She showered and changed and then drank down her Earl Gray tea. She wasn’t at all tired and was looking for a way to burn-off some pent-up energy by getting into trouble with her BFF.

She jumped into the cab that Jimmy hailed for her. She gave the ritzy Park Avenue West address and pulled out her cell phone. She waited until she spotted Tiffany’s building and made the call.

“
Miranda! I was wondering how long it would take for you come up for air?”

“
Yes, well at least there’s fresh air in Fairfield.”

“
Fresh air is overrated. How’s Ohio and Jake treating you?”

“
Ohio – fine. Jake – not so much.”

“
What? What is that cornhusker doing now? Surely he must realize he’s got the best thing going by being with you!”

“
Well, that’s your opinion and not his because …”

Miranda continued to talk into the phone as she paid the cab driver. She launched into a long monologue that didn’t make much sense all to buy time and make it up the elevator. A quick wink and finger to her mouth was enough to silence Phil the doorman. Phil took security very seriously, but he was well-acquainted with Miranda. He let her go straight up without tipping off Tiffany. Miranda gave him a salute and tucked a twenty dollar bill in his hand for his trouble and cooperation. She wasn’t above buying someone’s compliance – especially when a practical joke was afoot.

Once in the elevator, she used her penthouse key to get upstairs. She continued to talk explaining the momentary cut-off in communication as passing through a tunnel. For security reasons, Tiffany had a hallway built instead of having the elevator open in her apartment. Tiffany was all about security, the deadbolt lock on the door giving her a bit more of it. Miranda had no problem circumventing it.

She stood before Tiffany’s penthouse door. She banged forcefully on the door. She immediately heard Tiffany’s voice cutting into her long-winded, one-sided conversation.

“
Miranda, wait. Someone’s at the door, but it’s weird because Phil didn’t call or anything … Who is it?”

Miranda giggled as she heard Tiffany’s voice through the door. She ducked down and to the side to make sure she wasn’t spotted through the peephole.

“
Oh, Christ! Someone must be playing games because I don’t see anyone out there! Maybe I should check the security cam.”