Never Too Rich (23 page)

“
You could use a drink,” he said
decisively. “We’ll pop over to my place. It’s not far.”

She nodded and he gestured to the white-gloved
doorman, who had been standing at a discreet distance. They watched
as he rushed between the train of limousines and flagged down the
first of a fleet of cruising taxis.

R.L. led Edwina over to it. She was no longer moving
stiffly, no longer leaning heavily on him for support. R.L. helped
her in and pressed a tip into the doorman’s hand. Then he got in
beside her and pulled the door shut. “Seventy-first between Park
and Lex,” he instructed the driver.

Chapter 23

“
Blizzard,” muttered the mayor of
New York City sourly. “I can smell it coming.” He sniffed and
tapped the side of his nose with a forefinger. “A couple more
hours, and it’ll start. The Sanitation Department’s on alert, but
only sixty-five percent of the plows are in working order. But what
can you do?” Resignedly he shoved the papers on his lap
aside.

He and the police commissioner sat in opposite
corners of the backseat of the mayor’s dark blue town car as it
zipped smoothly up the FDR Drive to Gracie Mansion. The flexible,
long-necked reading lamp behind the mayor spilled soft light onto
His Honor’s lap, and from the oncoming lane at the other side of
the car, bright headlights glared and grew and
whooshed!
past; in contrast to the swift traffic, the towers of Manhattan
were a slow-moving, glittering, movie-set backdrop.

Detective Koscina sat twisted around on the front
passenger seat. He was looking backward, past the two men. Through
the rear window he caught the rising and dipping headlights of his
own unmarked police car following, driven by Carmen Toledo.

The matter of the snowplows momentarily filed away,
the mayor focused his eyes on Fred Koscina. “Bad business, this
murder,” His Honor said unhappily, the corners of his mouth
tightening. He had a halo of sparse unruly hair and held his head
stiffly tensed. “Why did it have to happen on the Upper East Side,
of all places? A lot of powerful people are going to come down hard
if this isn’t solved fast.” He signed heavily and rubbed his
balding head. “I wonder why I ever ran for this thankless job.”

“
The
News
and the
Post
are gonna have a field day,” the police commissioner
growled, an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth. His face kept
brightening and darkening in the oncoming headlights. He was a big
beefy black man with a bulldog face, and his dark blue suit had
obviously been tailored when he’d been fifteen pounds lighter. “My
sources at both papers called up to warn me about tomorrow’s
headlines. Wanna hear what they’re gonna say?”

“
Spare me the nightmares, Jack,”
the mayor snapped bitterly before turning to stare out at the dark
river. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

“
I want this thing cleared up
fast,” the P.C. told Koscina. He grabbed the cigar out of his mouth
and emphasized each syllable with a stabbing gesture: “Like
yes-ter-day.”

“
We’re working on it,” Koscina
said.

“
Then work on it harder, goddammit!
I want this case solved. ASAP.” The P.C. sat back again, popped the
cigar once more into his mouth, and rolled it between his
teeth.

Koscina stared at him. “I don’t think it’s going to
be that easy, sir,” he said softly.

“
Whoever said anything in this
city’s easy?” the P.C. grumbled. “This is New York.”

“
Yes, sir. But we’re not talking
ordinary household homicide here. I don’t want to be an alarmist,
but we could be talking about a psycho on the loose. We should be
prepared for the worst.”

“
You got proof?” the P.C. wanted to
know.

“
Not yet, sir. But by all
indications, Vienna Farrow may not be the last scalping victim
we’re going to see.”

“
Heaven help us,” the mayor moaned.
“You think we’ve got a repeat killer? Another Son of
Sam?”

Koscina looked directly at him. “Maybe . . . and
then again, Mr. Mayor, maybe not. All we can do right now is hope
for the best.”

“
A serial killer!” The mayor rolled
his eyes and slumped back weakly. “That’s all we need. The Upper
East Side is going to be up in arms, and every woman in this city
is going to be afraid to walk outside.”

“
Koscina,” the P.C. growled, “if
you’re right, then we’ve got to find this bastard superfast. Before
he kills anyone else. You know what to do. Set up a special squad
office and borrow whoever you want from whatever precinct you like.
If you get any flak from the commanders, have ‘em gimme a call.
Just get this thing cleared up. No department politics are going to
stand in the way of this investigation.”

“
And for God’s sake,” the mayor
added, “whatever you do, try to keep these psycho suspicions down
to a need-to-know basis. If the media get hold of this, there’ll be
panic in the streets.”

Chapter 24

Edwina was barely aware of the cab coasting to a
stop in front of R.L.’s building. Her mind was elsewhere—still
switching back and forth between the nightmare dinner and her
office . . . or rather, she amended, what
used
to be her
office. Not twenty minutes earlier, while R.L. had waited in the
cab in front of 550 Seventh Avenue, she’d plopped herself down in
front of a word processor, savagely tapped out her notice of
resignation, and marched through the dim, empty corridors to
Antonio’s office, where she’d slapped it down smack dab in the
center of his massive glass slab of a desk, anchoring it there with
one of his precious Coty awards.

Somehow, she’d thought the act of resigning and
getting away from the crowd at the party would lessen her pain
somewhat, but it seemed even worse now. More concentrated. Her
insides were brewing with an explosive mixture of anger, hurt,
aggression, disgust, rebellion, and humiliation.

Antonio couldn’t have taken me aside and told me in
private? she thought furiously. Oh, no! I had to find out about it
from Klas— and in front of everybody else!

She let R.L. lead her out of the cab and up the
front steps of the town house. She barely registered where she was.
Walking past him into his duplex apartment, she looked around
without really seeing anything. What am I doing here? she wondered.
All I want to do is crawl away to some safe cave where I can lick
my wounds in private.

“
I’ll get you a drink.” R.L. smiled
wryly. “I think we could both use one.”

She stood there hugging herself as he strode
silently across the carpet to a tray table with an assortment of
decanters and glasses. Liquid gurgled and crystal chimed; then he
came back and handed her a Baccarat glass. Silently she accepted
it, staring down at the warm amber liquid as though wondering what
to do with it.

He drank his down and looked at her.

She was still just standing there, wrapped in
painful reality.

“
Drink it,” he ordered softly,
setting his down.

With both hands she lifted the glass obediently to
her lips and drank it down in one swallow. That it was powerful
VSOP brandy barely registered either—she didn’t even make a face.
But there was no mistaking the liquid fire that flowed down her
throat and radiated from deep inside her.

She looked up at him gratefully. R.L. seemed to be
able to do just the right thing. As if he could reach into her mind
and divine her needs.

He took the empty glass from her hand and set it
down. “Feel any better?”

She nodded. “A little.”

His eyes held hers. They were so great and green and
beautiful, she thought. So rich and warm. So penetrating that they
seemed to burn through her.

As though hypnotized, she continued to hold his
gaze, her breath catching in her throat as something inside her
quickened.

“
And now, you’ve got to forget what
happened at that dinner. It is real no longer, at least not here.
That happened outside these walls. Here, the only thing that truly
exists is us and now. You and I—
we
hold the true reality of
living.”

The very air seemed charged. For the first time she
seemed aware of the fragrant potpourri mingling with the subtle
scent of his cologne, the dim lighting that cast soft shadows
across his face, the calm silence in which only the two of them
existed.

Edwina was confused.

She could feel her anger recede, the hurt inside her
dissipate to something dreamy and distant. He was right.
This
was the true reality.

What’s happening to me?

She flushed as he stepped closer, and she tilted her
head back to keep looking up at him, unable to break the
spellbinding hold his eyes had upon her. Suddenly she was aware of
nothing but his tallness, the breadth of his shoulders, the
lustrous sheen of his skin. Was she imagining it, or was he growing
more handsome as she studied him?

He lifted a hand to her cheek and she gasped as
tender fingertips grazed her skin and trailed ever so gently along
the ridge of a cheekbone. His mere touch seemed to ignite something
electric within her.

And still they stared at each other.

She could feel her legs going weak. His caress on
her face left a trail of live sparks. Amazing, that mere fingertips
could cause such a reaction!

He was watching her response closely.

“
You’re so beautiful,” he murmured,
and it was as if she felt the warm breath of the words instead of
having heard the words themselves. Now his fingers traced lazily
across her lips. “Do you know how often I dreamed of this? Of me
and you?”

Her eyes widened.

Then he slowly bent his head and touched his lips to
hers.

It was like an electric jolt. Her entire body
trembled.

Now she shut her eyes, and his nipping kisses
deepened. As she parted her lips, she could feel his powerful
hands, one in the bare center of her back and one at her clothed
buttocks, pressing her tightly against him. Chest to chest, pelvis
to pelvis.

After a moment she felt his lips leave hers, and she
opened her eyes. He was still looking down at her, smiling, and she
returned his smile with one of her own.

His fingers strummed lightly down her bare spine,
then stroked and explored her lower back and buttocks through the
silk of her party dress.

“
Eds,” he whispered.

Her spellbound gaze turned questioning.

“
Where have you been all these
years? How did I live without you?”

“
It wasn’t you, it—”

“
Ssssh!” he interrupted, and
touched a finger to her lips. “Don’t say anything.”

Then he bowed over her face once more, cupped her
buttocks with his hands, and pressed her even closer. This time his
kisses were urgent and devouring, and she kissed him back just as
urgently, tasting his warm lips, hard white teeth, and soft tongue.
She could feel her heaving breasts squeezed flat against his chest,
could feel the unmistakable contours of his straining sex, hard and
ready, captured by his trousers, pressing into her belly. She
responded by gripping him fiercely by the arms, digging her fingers
deep into his biceps.

Her head reeled. It was a kiss that paralyzed, which
seemed to go on forever. And all the while, his gentle, probing
fingers undressed her. Slowly he removed her shocking-pink
cummerbund; by feel, he unzipped the back of her chartreuse bodice
so that it split and fell away like a rustling cocoon; leisurely he
stroked the slim flared skirt down over her hips and thighs until
it slid away on its own, the silk whispering its way down to her
ankles.

Ah, the sudden chill of cool air upon her nakedness!
The exquisite torture of such deliberate restraint! The building
tension of passion growing . . . forever growing and mounting
within her. It was unbearable, this leisurely foreplay!

She gasped at his touch now, shuddering as his
fingers moved slowly across her flawless naked flesh. And still the
kiss continued, still they breathed air from deep within each
other, still they tasted each other’s hunger and gave to each
other’s need.

“
Oh, God!” she whispered when at
last he pulled away slowly; and when he started to undress himself,
she whispered, “No!” Her voice was husky and sure. “Let
me!”

He stood absolutely still while her hands moved
tentatively up to his collar, her fingers light as feathers as she
loosened his bow tie and removed the studs from his shirt from the
top down. Forcing herself to be just as teasingly deliberate with
him as he had been with her, she reached inside his open shirt and
deliciously smoothed her palms along his whorly-haired chest,
massaging his nipples with her fingers before her hands wafted
away, gliding slowly down toward his belly.

Now it was his turn to shudder and tremble; she
could hear him suck in his breath as she loosened his cummerbund.
And all the while, she kept staring up into his eyes, those warm
green eyes, hypnotizing him just as he’d hypnotized her.

She was startled by a revelation: I’m getting moist!
Watching him endure this sweet agony is making me succumb!

It was she who instigated the next kiss. Reaching up
with one hand, she drew his head down to hers, while with the other
she loosened his trousers by feel.

His body jerked as her warm fingers brushed against
his penis. Engorged and ready, it strained against his briefs,
throbbing with a life of its own.

Edwina fought the urge to free it. Slowly she told
herself, slowly . . . How his manhood strained! Yes, trapped, it
was all the sweeter. God, this could go on forever!