Maxine (13 page)

“You rich, hateful brat. You have no right to threaten us,” said Mrs. Corinth.

Motioning to the guards, Cara said, “Take them upstairs to pack and stay with them until they leave the house. They’re not to take any of the cars or anything else that doesn’t belong to them.”

As Cara’s guardians left the room, Nick heard the woman berating rich people. It wasn’t Cara she hated, it was her money. He squeezed Cara’s hand and motioned to Mr. Pettibone. “Better get Sally in here before she finds out what’s going on.”

“Yes, of course.” Mr. Pettibone disappeared.

Carl Hilton stepped into the room. “Miss Andrews, we found two guns in Mr. Bradshaw’s apartment. And this.” He handed Cara a rolled-up painting.

She carefully unrolled it. “My mother’s favorite painting. This is worth at least three million dollars.”

Nick knew Lance was behind the theft. After all, he was the one who hired the guy. He motioned with his head to the security guard. “Did you call the police?”

“Yes, they’re on their way,” said Mr. Hilton.

Mr. Hilton walked outside the study door, leaving Nick and Cara and Gerry alone. Cara paced and rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t anticipate this.”

Nick said, “Yeah, but you’re doing great, Maxine. For a minute there, I thought you might be Italian.”

She turned to face him. “Why?”

Gerry laughed. Nick leaned down to whisper in Cara’s ear. “Everybody knows Italians have bigger balls.”

She smacked him on the arm as a smile touched her lips.

Nick was proud of her, of the way she’d handled herself with her guardians. Facing her fears and stepping up to her responsibilities had turned the terrified girl he’d found buried in the rubble under a collapsed house into a strong, take-charge woman.

Cara took a deep breath. She’d given a lot of thought about this talk with Sally. The woman conspired with Lance, but Lance was a persuasive man. He could talk anyone into anything, like he talked her into eloping with him before she really knew him. Was Sally a willing participant, or did Lance coerce her into helping him? Did Sally love Lance so much she’d protect him at the risk of her own freedom? Time to find out.

“Cara, I suggest you keep the desk between you,” said Gerry. “It’s more intimidating that way.”

She turned to face her attorney. “What if she’s a victim like me?”

Gerry shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Cara. We need her. If you have to use intimidation, then use it. If she cooperates, Sally McCullough’s testimony could help you end your marriage the way you want.”

Nick massaged the back of Cara’s neck, easing her tension. “Cara, Sally is living in your house, sleeping with your husband, and planning to spend all your money. Don’t feel sorry for her. She’s known all along what he intended to do. Get the information you need and get her the hell out of your life.”

Mr. Pettibone tapped on the door, then opened it. “Miss Andrews, are you ready for Miss McCullough?”

“Have the police come for Mr. Bradshaw?”

“They’ve just arrived.” Mr. Pettibone stepped into the room and pulled the door closed behind him. “Mr. and Mrs. Corinth are ready to leave and their taxi is waiting at the gate.”

“Send Miss McCullough in first, then have my guardians escorted off the property.” Cara leaned on the desk. “Mr. Pettibone, would you mind sitting in on the interview with Miss McCullough?”

“Not at all.”

“Cassie should be here, too.”

Cassie arrived with a tray of iced tea and Cara invited her to sit down. Seconds later, Mr. Pettibone arrived with Sally. She was a beauty, with a cloud of auburn hair and green eyes. She knew it, too. It showed in the way she held her head, the way she stood.

Mr. Pettibone introduced the two women. Sally couldn’t hide her shock at finding Cara there.

“Sit down, Miss McCullough,” said Cara. “I understand you had a dispute with Cassie. Would you tell me about it?”

Sally sat in the chair in front of the desk. “It was personal.”

“Personal?”
Damn right it was personal
. “People don’t get fired from my staff on the basis of personal disputes. Tell me what happened.”

Sally blushed and looked down. She didn’t answer, so Cara turned to Cassie.

Cassie told her story again, in front of Sally. Aside from flushed cheeks, Sally didn’t show any emotion.

“Tell me about you and my husband, Sally,” Cara said gently, giving her a chance to avoid further embarrassment.

Sally whispered, “I can’t.”

Cara waited a minute before speaking, giving Cassie a chance to leave the room and Sally time to squirm. Nick nodded, signaling Cara to continue. Since Sally wouldn’t cooperate, Cara would have to do it the hard way, the way she’d practiced with Nick before they left his house. “Mr. Pettibone, have we ever had a hooker on the staff?”

Aside from a flicker of a smile and a gleam in his eye, Mr. Pettibone kept his composure. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Then how do we know how much to pay?”

Cara glanced at Nick, who asked, “Who pays you, Sally?”

Sally didn’t answer, so Cara pushed ahead. “Did he get you off the street or from a brothel? How much do you usually get paid for a night’s work, or do you charge according to the services you provide? How does that work?”

“I am not a prostitute.” Sally’s shaky voice betrayed her indignant words. She was scared, as she should be.

Cara had Sally on the defensive. “Then what do you assist him with? It isn’t as if he actually
works
for a living. What is it that you do for him, exactly? Do you always do it without your clothes?”

Nick leaned back in his chair. “I thought selling sex was against the law.”

“Is it?” said Cara. “In that case, we should call the authorities.”

Sally held her head up, her face bright red.

Propping one ankle on the other knee, Nick asked, “Have you ever been in jail, Sally?”

Sally’s terrified, wide-eyed look was his answer.

Cara gentled her voice. “Tell me about Michael Lance.”

“I can’t,” Sally whispered.

“Sure you can,” said Nick. “He planned to lock her up so he could steal her money. Did you help him plan that?”

“No, I... “ Sally looked from Nick to Cara. “I thought... He said you were...”

Cara tapped a pen on the desk. “Crazy? No matter what anyone told you, I am not depressed or mentally ill. Lance lied and so did your aunt and uncle.” Cara caught Sally’s eye. “Do you love my husband?”

Sally raised her chin, holding her head high. “Yes, and he loves me.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “How long have you been together?”

“Almost two years.”

“Why did he marry me if he loved you?”

Sally opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. No matter what she said, it wouldn’t help her at this point.

“He’s persuasive, an accomplished liar. How can you be sure he loves you?”

Sally wiped the corners of her eyes. “I know he does.”

“Does your love give you the right to lock me in an institution?”

“No, I didn’t want—”

“How did he know about me? Was it through you, through your aunt and uncle?”

She looked down and Cara knew that was exactly what happened. The people who were paid to take care of her had betrayed her. “Let me guess. They told you my mother was crazy and I didn’t deserve all this money because I’d go crazy, too.”

Sally responded with a whispered, “Yes.”

“What do you know about Mr. Bradshaw?”

Sally looked up. “Who?”

“The man Michael Lance hired to steal the paintings from my home.”

Nick uncrossed his legs. “You could go to prison for this, Sally.” He waved toward the door. “Hey, the cops are already here.”

Sally cried. “I don’t want to go to prison.”

“You were willing to send me to one,” said Cara.

“It’s not a prison. Michael said it was nice.”

“Have you seen it?”

Sally shook her head. “No, but Michael wouldn’t—”

“The hell he wouldn’t.” Nick voice rose as he spoke, making Sally cringe. “Lance lies, Sally. He told Cara he loved her, that they’d have a family and live happily ever after. Not a word of that was true, was it? How could he love her when he loved you? And you went along with it. You knew what he had planned all along. He married her with the intention of locking her up and stealing her money. He didn’t give a shit about Cara or he wouldn’t have done that, would he?” Nick yelled, “Would he?”

“No.”

“Should she have to live in an institution so you and pretty boy could go on a spending spree? How’d you like it if someone did that to you?”

Sally’s trembling hand covered her mouth and tears dripped on her fingers.

Nick waved his hand. “Too bad we can’t send you to that institution.”

Gerry shook his head. “No, Cara, you can’t—”

“Gerry, she and Michael Lance planned to confine me to that hell hole for the rest of my life.”

Nick leaned forward, his face inches from Sally’s. “Help Cara get out of her marriage, Sally. That’s all she wants—to be free.”

Sally sobbed. “I can’t. Michael would kill me.”

Nick swept his hand around. “Yeah, that’s true love all right. How could any woman be stupid enough to go along with a cruel plan like that?”

Rising out of her chair, Sally said, “I don’t have to listen to this.”

Nick stood and put his face in Sally’s again. “The hell you don’t. Cara did nothing wrong, yet you conspired with a criminal to lock her up. If I have anything to say about it, you’re going to prison, where you belong.”

Cara looked up at Nick. They hadn’t rehearsed this part, but she knew exactly what he was doing. He was baiting Sally.

“Please don’t send me to prison,” cried Sally. “I didn’t know... I thought you were sick, that you needed care.” Sally sank into the chair and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God. This is a nightmare.”

While Sally sobbed, Nick pulled Cara aside. “Can you handle it from here?”

Cara glanced at Sally. “Yes, I think so.”

“Throw us out and talk to her alone. The tape is still running and your security people are right outside the door.”

“You set her up so she’d talk to me?”

A grin split Nick’s face. “It worked, didn’t it?”

She leaned close and whispered, “Is it true about Italians? Do you have—”

He chuckled softly. “You wanta check it out?”

Cara felt her face burn and pushed him toward the door. “Get out of here, Nick.” She glanced around the room. “Gerry, Mr. Pettibone, I’d like to speak with Sally alone.”

Gerry’s eyebrows knit. “Are you sure, Cara?”

She nodded and closed the door behind them. Cara took a deep breath and turned to face Sally.

“I’d like to speak with my aunt and uncle.”

“They’re gone,” said Cara. “I fired them this afternoon. I should have done it years ago.” Cara sat in the chair beside Sally and poured two glasses of iced tea. “I was only thirteen when my mother left. From the day your aunt and uncle arrived, they let me know how much they resented me. I never understood why.”

Sally took her glass and sipped. “I think it’s your money.”

“That’s no excuse for treating a kid with contempt.”

They sat in companionable silence for several seconds, sipping their iced tea, before Cara spoke again. “I need your help, Sally. I want to end my marriage without rewarding my husband for his treachery. Will you help me?”

“He’ll kill us both.”

“I’ll do my best to protect you, but you have to promise not to contact him or speak with him. If you want, I can send you to the sanitarium on St. Rupert’s until I end my marriage. He’d never think to look for you there.” Cara didn’t expect Sally to stay there. One look should open her eyes and make her realize that Michael Lance had lied to her, too.

She couldn’t punish Sally for believing in the man she loved. At one time, Cara had believed in him, too, and Lance would have done the evil deed with or without Sally. He smelled easy money, and like a pit bull holding another dog by the throat, he wasn’t about to let go.

“I’ll tell you what I know,” said Sally.

Sally talked for an hour, and Cara got it all on tape.

Chapter Eight

“S
low down, Jane.” She was talking so fast, Lance couldn’t understand a word she said. Then Ian came on the phone and told him they’d been ejected from Cara’s house.

“She’s
there
?” asked Lance. What was Cara doing at the estate?

“Damn right she’s there,” said Ian, “and she’s not getting away with this. You’re her husband.
Do
something. She’s gone stark raving mad.”