Murder at the Spa (11 page)

Indeed, it was clear from Paulina’s indulgent expression that she considered Gary a man in her own mold. It was another of Paulina’s idiosyncracies that she had no interest in people who had inherited money. Titles, blue blood, family fortunes—these impressed her not at all. But when it came to people who had
earned
fortunes, she wanted to know what they ate for breakfast. Charlotte suspected that Paulina was quite impressed by the Seltzer Boy, although she never would have admitted it. He had, after all, amassed a small fortune, and he had done it very quickly.

“Sales will bounce back,” he was telling Miss Small. “The consumer is a lot smarter than most of us give him—or her—credit for, and a lot more loyal. As long as the product is okay, the consumer won’t desert the ship. He’ll recognize that the product’s image has been unfairly tarnished. The important thing is to get the message out.”

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the first course, oysters served on the half shell by a squadron of efficient waiters in black bow ties. With the oysters came goblets of champagne.

Miss Small was still listening intently. Gary had her wrapped around his little finger. His dark, sharp face combined with his muscular physique gave him a Panish quality, slightly playful, slightly lascivious, that Charlotte imagined many women would find very appealing.

“Then there’s nothing wrong with the water?” she asked, still on first base with her notebook.

“Nothing,” replied Gary. He went on to talk about the safety tests to which the water was subjected and about the fact that the contaminated waters were not among those bottled by High Rock. Miss Small took it all down, oblivious to the fact that she was being led around by the nose.

Charlotte was impressed; he had turned a potentially embarrassing situation into one that was to his company’s benefit.

After the oysters came the entrée: lobster with truffle sauce and filet mignon. With it came an assortment of fine wines, both red and white. And, of course, High Rock mineral water. It was quite a spread.

“What about the stock?” asked Miss Small in a fleeting moment of skepticism before digging in to her lobster.

“Oh, that’s dropped too,” Gary replied blithely. “But it will come back.”

“Eat,” Paulina urged her.

Miss Small nodded and settled down to her meal. In fact, the stock had dropped precipitously. After talking with Paulina, Charlotte had checked. By comparison with the drop in High Rock Waters stock, the drop in Paulina Langenberg stock was nothing. But what society reporter was going to bother to check the stock listings, particularly with a bellyful of lobster?

During the main course, Paulina finally succeeded in steering the conversation away from radium. The new subject was jewelry, specifically the rubies that bedecked Paulina’s throat, wrists, and earlobes. A ruby brooch was even pinned to her hat. While Miss Small oohed and aahed, Charlotte took stock of her surroundings. The neighboring table was occupied by Jerry and his wife, a dark, plump, pretty woman; Elliot and Claire, who looked like a throwback to the sixties in her Mother Hubbard skirt; and Dr. Sperry and Corinne. The table grouping was completed by another red carnation. Across the room, Charlotte noticed Frannie and her husband sitting at a table with some other spa employees. With her hair done and her face made up, Frannie actually looked pretty, proof of Paulina’s dictum that there are no ugly women, only lazy ones.

By the time Charlotte returned her attention to the conversation, it had moved on to the yellow stone on Paulina’s finger. “You like it?” Paulina asked. Removing it from her finger, she thrust it into the hand of the astonished reporter. “It’s yours,” she said. “For luck.” It dawned on Charlotte that Paulina must have worn the jewel—probably an inexpensive quartz—for the purpose of making just such a show of generosity. When it came to manipulating the press, Gary had nothing on Paulina.

The waiters returned to clear the dishes and to serve dessert and coffee. As dessert—an ice cream bombe—was served, the ceremonies began. The first speaker was an official who talked about what Paulina’s stewardship of the spa had meant to the state. Before Paulina Langenberg, he said, the state had been subsidizing the baths to the tune of ten dollars each. Five years later, the royalties paid by Paulina Langenberg were enriching state coffers by hundreds of thousands each year. The story was similar for the bottling plant. After a few platitudes about a profitable future, the official went on to introduce Gary, who was the featured speaker.

Gary excused himself and made his way up to the mint-green-skirted podium. He had the broad shoulders, straight back, and narrow hips of the natural athlete. He also had a very good tailor. He mounted the podium with an energetic jump. After starting off with the obligatory joke, he moved on to the substance of his speech:

“In the summer of the year 1767, Sir John Williams, who had just returned from a visit to High Rock Springs, wrote a friend: ‘I have just returned from a visit to a most amazing spring, which miraculously effected my cure.’ These words launched the spa that would become famous throughout the world as High Rock Spa. The story of the development of High Rock Spa is a story of the American entrepreneurial spirit, the spirit of hard work and dedication and the ability to respond to the needs of the marketplace, the spirit that built this country and made it great.”

Paulina sat with one hand cupped around the back of her ear. “What did he say?” she asked Anne-Marie in a loud voice.

Anne-Marie repeated the gist of his words.

Paulina nodded, smiling.

“High Rock’s first great entrepreneur was Elisha Burnett. It was Elisha Burnett who had the vision and fortitude to clear High Rock’s famous spring, to build its first inn, to lay out its streets and roads. In his footsteps followed other entrepreneurs, men who carved a city out of the wilderness. One of these was Dr. William Allen, who was to become High Rock’s second great entrepreneur.” He went on to talk about Dr. Allen, who, on a visit to High Rock in 1820, was so impressed by the number of visitors who had come to take the waters that he purchased the spring and set up a bottling plant. A new industry was born.

“Today, we are celebrating the anniversary of the third stage in High Rock’s history, a stage in which the trends established by Elisha Burnett and by Dr. Allen—the spa and the bottled waters—have come together, producing a rebirth of High Rock Spa. Five years ago, High Rock Spa was taken over by Paulina Langenberg and High Rock Waters. The result has been nothing short of miraculous: together, these companies have given the spa a new lease on life; together, these companies have put High Rock Springs back on the map.”

The speech was interrupted by applause. Miss Small gave a jingling ovation, orange fingernails flashing. As she clapped, Paulina bounced up and down in her seat like a child. Charlotte felt a jab in the ribs. “Smart, eh?” said Paulina. She leaned toward Anne-Marie. “This time, you’ve got a good one. ‘A’ number one.” Addressing Charlotte, she added: “He’s not a creep like the last one.” She shot a sidelong look of distaste at the adjoining table, where Dr. Sperry was nuzzling Corinne with unseemly familiarity.

Gary cleared his throat. “It is therefore fitting,” he continued, “that today we are commemorating the commencement of another stage in the history of the spa, a stage that will marry the two trends in High Rock’s history—the spa and the mineral waters—a stage in which Paulina Langenberg and High Rock Waters will look toward the future, together.”

“How nice,” Paulina whispered, “he’s going to plug the spa line.”

Gary glanced over at their table. “What I’m about to say may come as a surprise—even as a shock—to some of you, but I can assure you that there is no cause for concern. The future that we will share together will be even brighter than our separate futures might have been.”

A shock? Charlotte didn’t understand.

“Oh, God,” muttered Leon, who was sitting to Charlotte’s right. He removed a handkerchief from his breast pocket and used it to wipe his brow, which had begun to perspire profusely despite the cool breeze.

Paulina had stopped bouncing. With a puzzled expression, she cupped a hand around her ear.

Gary continued: “I am proud to announce that as of today High Rock Waters, Inc., is the majority shareholder in Paulina Langenberg. High Rock Waters has acquired a twenty-five percent share of Paulina Langenberg. Our goal is a thirty-four percent share. High Rock Waters’s tender offer will be announced in the financial pages of tomorrow’s newspaper.”

For a moment, Paulina’s jaw hung slack. Then she glanced around the room like a beleaguered general seeking the support of his troops. There was a buzz of conversation as it dawned on the guests what was happening.

“In the future,” Gary continued, “High Rock Waters and Paulina Langenberg will be working together. The merger is a natural for both companies.” Gary went on to talk about mutual interests, marketing compatibility, and increased growth and profits.

But no one was listening.

It was a takeover, plain and simple. Charlotte watched Paulina in fascination as the realization took hold that the empire over which she reigned had been attacked. Corporate raider—the term was perfect. For the first time in her life, Paulina would have to answer to someone else.

Paulina looked stunned.

How had it come about? Charlotte wondered. High Rock Waters—however profitable—was still only small fry by comparison with Paulina Langenberg. How had David felled Goliath? Then Gary let the other shoe drop.

“I want to stress that High Rock Waters is acquiring stock in Paulina Langenberg with only the friendliest of intentions. We have every expectation of working to make our two corporate cultures fit together. Toward that end, I have another announcement. As of today, I am resigning my position as president of High Rock Waters. I will, however, stay on as chairman of the board. The new president will be Elliot Langenberg, who, as you know, is director of the spa and executive vice president of Paulina Langenberg, Inc.”

Gary went on, but everyone’s eyes were on Elliot, who managed to look both triumphant and sick at the same time. In fact, he looked as if he were about to crack his cookies—or rather his filet mignon—on the spot.

It was then that Charlotte realized what had happened: Elliot had sold his stock in Paulina Langenberg to Gary. As Paulina’s son, Elliot undoubtedly owned a lot. Gary had probably thrown in the presidency of High Rock Waters to grease the deal. By adding Elliot’s block of stock to shares purchased on the open market, Gary could easily accumulate enough to meet his goal.

In fact, a David gaining control of a Goliath probably wasn’t so unusual in the business world nowadays; it seemed as if there was nothing too big to take over or to try to take over. All it took was good credit and a lot of nerve. Gary apparently had plenty of both.

Leon was bending consolingly over his aunt: “I’m sorry. The letter of intent came this morning. I wanted to tell you myself. To break it gently.”

“Do you think I’m senile?” she snapped.

Leon went on: “Thirty-four percent is slightly more than a third. According to our bylaws, High Rock Waters’s ownership of thirty-four percent will give them negative control. Which means that all major decisions will require their approval. To put it another way: he’s got us hamstrung.”

“I know what negative control means,” hissed Paulina.

Leon shot Elliot a dirty look, which Elliot returned. The exchange made Charlotte realize why Elliot had done what he had. He was afraid Paulina would someday carry out her threat to leave the company to Leon. With negative control, he could block any effort to install Leon at the head of Paulina Langenberg. In fact, he could defeat any proposal he cared to contest.

Gary was still talking—about what an honor it would be to work with Paulina. But the flattery was going over her head. She was over being stunned; her face was a study in fury. Her nostrils were flared, her lips compressed. She stood up, giving Anne-Marie a look that would scorch the desert. Grabbing Charlotte’s arm, she said, “Come on. Let’s get away from this scum.”

Anne-Marie looked up importunately, as if she were being rejected by her own mother. Either she was a good actress, or she had had no idea that a tender offer was in the works.

With the dignity of a dethroned monarch, Paulina, resplendent in her red gown and her red jewels, tossed her shawl over one shoulder and marched over to the table where Elliot sat with Claire and the others.

She stood squarely in front of him, her hands on her hips. “Traitor,” she said. “Rotten, rotten, traitor.”

And then she spat on him.

6

“Betrayed me. You betrayed me,” shouted Paulina. “My own son. How could you? The company that I’ve worked my entire life to build. Sold out from under me. I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it.”

In her hand, Paulina held a letter, which she passed to Charlotte in evidence of her son’s treachery. It was from High Rock Waters, describing the terms of the tender offer and the plans for the future of the company.

After being hustled out of the fete on Paulina’s arm, Charlotte had been dragged back to Paulina’s apartment. She now sat at the side of Paulina’s bed, the unofficial witness to the family melodrama.

Elliot stood at the foot of the bed, his face as white as if it were smeared with a layer of Langenberg cold cream.

For the last ten minutes, Paulina had been delivering a tongue-lashing that was mesmerizing in its drama. Always extravagant in her use of gesture, she had embellished her performance by alternately raising her fist to the heavens and beating her breast. Now she was signaling an unofficial time-out by burying her face in the pile of silk pillows at the head of her huge Chinese bed. She was huddled on her knees, her hands gripping her elbows. Her chignon was coming apart. Strands of blue-black hair hung down her back. She rocked back and forth, keening like an Indian squaw for her dead brave.

Charlotte took advantage of the break in the melodrama to survey the room. The rosewood platform bed was covered by a canopy and enclosed on three sides and part of a fourth by a latticework railing. On the purple wall above the bed hung a spectacular Picasso, a mother and child. One wall was lined with windows over which were drawn rose-colored brocade draperies. The overall impression was a combination of French bordello and opium den—one that had just been ransacked: newspapers were heaped next to the bed, clothes overflowed the dresser drawers, food lay uneaten on plates on the bedside table.