Paradise
Page 192
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"It's nice to hear that someone thinks that's possible," Matt said sarcastically.
"I don't think it, I know it." Unnerved by his unencouraging attitude and desperate to make him believe her, Caroline began talking faster. "Mr. Farrell, I own a large block of shares in B and C, and six months ago Charlotte Bancroft—she was Philip's father's second wife—called me. She asked me if I'd like a chance to get back at Philip for divorcing me and shutting me out of Meredith's life. Charlotte heads Seaboard Industries in Florida," she added disjointedly.
Matt remembered Meredith's mentions of her stepgrandmother. "She inherited it from her husband," he said, reluctantly drawn into the discussion.
"Yes, and she's built it into an enormous holding company that owns a great many corporations."
"And?" he said when she hesitated.
Caroline looked at him, trying to gauge his emotions, but he didn't seem to have any at all. "And now," she said, "she's getting ready to add Bancroft and Company to her holdings. She asked if I'd vote my block of shares in her favor when she'd acquired enough shares of her own to equal a controlling interest. She hates Philip, too, though she doesn't think I know why she does."
"I'm sure he gave her thousands of reasons," Matt said ironically, turning away and shrugging into his tuxedo jacket. The buzzer at the door was ringing incessantly and the sound of conversation drifted into the bedroom as arriving guests stopped in the foyer to relinquish their coats.
"She hates Philip," Caroline persevered, "because it was Philip she wanted, not his father, and she did her damnedest to get him into her bed even after she was engaged to his father. He turned her down repeatedly, and one day he did more than that. He told his father— Cyril—she was a common, mercenary slut who wanted to marry Cyril for his money and who had the hots for him—Philip. It was all true," she said somberly, "but Philip's father was in love with her. He blamed Philip for saying it, and yet he believed him. He called off his wedding and Charlotte, who'd been Cyril's secretary, had to wait years before he finally decided to marry her. Anyway, a few months ago, I told Charlotte I'd think about voting my shares with her when she made her takeover move, but when I had time to consider it, I started changing my mind. Philip is an infuriating fool, but Charlotte is truly evil. She has no heart. A few weeks ago she called and told me someone else was buying up a lot of shares in B and C, and causing the price to go up."
Matt knew he was responsible for that, but he said nothing as she continued. "Charlotte was panicky. She said she was going to do something to make the price drop way down, and then she was going to make her move. The next thing I knew I was hearing about bombs being found in the stores and how it was destroying B and C's Christmas business and causing the stock to drop."
She'd given Matt the missing pieces of the puzzle—the motive for the carefully placed bombs that had been meant to damage business but not the stores themselves, the motive for taking over a corporation that was a bad bet for short-term profit. Charlotte Bancroft had the motives and she had the vast sums of money needed to execute a takeover of a corporation in debt and then to wait until B & C was again profitable.
"You'll have to tell the police," he said, turning toward the phone beside his bed.
She nodded. "I know. Is that who you're calling now?"
"No. I'm calling a man named Olsen who has contacts with the local police. He'll go with you tomorrow and make certain you aren't treated like a crackpot, or, worse, made into their newest suspect."
Caroline stood perfectly still, her face mirroring astonishment as he called a long distance number and ordered the man named Olsen to Chicago on the first plane in the morning—all of it to ease her way through a difficult situation. She revised her initial opinion that he was the most unapproachable man she'd ever encountered and decided he simply didn't want anything more to do with anyone whose name was Bancroft—including Meredith, judging from the cold way he'd said he was about to become her ex-husband. When he hung up he wrote two phone numbers on a pad beside the phone and tore the sheet off. "Here's Olsen's home phone number. Call him anytime tonight and tell him where to meet you. The second phone number is mine, in case you have a problem." He turned back to her, and the hostility he'd shown her earlier was gone. He was still aloof and obviously reluctant to have any other involvement with her, but he unbent enough to say, "Meredith told me you used to be in films. The road cast from Phantom of the Opera is here tonight as well as a hundred and fifty other people, some of whom you probably know. If you'd like to stay for the party, my father will introduce you around."
The party was already shifting into full swing as they walked toward the living room. "I'd rather not be introduced," she said quickly, "and I have no desire to renew my acquaintance with any of the old-guard Chicago socialites out there." She hesitated then, watching black-coated waiters passing trays of drinks among gorgeously dressed women and men in tuxedos. Someone was playing a piano and the lilting music blended with the sound of cultured voices and bursts of laughter. "I—I would like to stay for just a little while though," she said with a sudden jaunty smile that made her look thirty-five instead of fifty-five. "I used to live for parties like this. It might be fun to stay and watch and wonder again why I ever thought they were so wonderful."
"Let me know if you figure that out," he said, his own indifference obviously surpassing even her own.
"Why are you giving the party if you don't enjoy them?" she asked with an uncertain smile, wondering anew at this strange, enigmatic man her daughter had married.
"The proceeds of the performance tomorrow night are going to charity," he said with a shrug.
Matt led her to the edge of the crowd, where his sister was deep in conversation with Stuart Whitmore, and he introduced her simply as Caroline Edwards. Whitmore and his sister had already hit it off, he noted, and he wished he hadn't introduced them. Having Whitmore seeing his sister would be an unwanted reminder of Meredith—especially of that ill-fated afternoon in his conference room when she'd put her hand in his and promised to trust him. She hadn't been capable of doing it that day, and she hadn't been capable of it later when it was more important. Because when it came down to it, he was still a crude nobody to her. She would never have suspected Parker, or anyone else of her own class, of being a murderer or an arsonist. She'd been willing to sleep with Matt—but that was all. She'd have kept right on stalling about living with him forever. She'd liked going to bed with him, but when it came down to actually committing herself to him, to living with him, to being married to him, that she could not make herself do.
"I don't think it, I know it." Unnerved by his unencouraging attitude and desperate to make him believe her, Caroline began talking faster. "Mr. Farrell, I own a large block of shares in B and C, and six months ago Charlotte Bancroft—she was Philip's father's second wife—called me. She asked me if I'd like a chance to get back at Philip for divorcing me and shutting me out of Meredith's life. Charlotte heads Seaboard Industries in Florida," she added disjointedly.
Matt remembered Meredith's mentions of her stepgrandmother. "She inherited it from her husband," he said, reluctantly drawn into the discussion.
"Yes, and she's built it into an enormous holding company that owns a great many corporations."
"And?" he said when she hesitated.
Caroline looked at him, trying to gauge his emotions, but he didn't seem to have any at all. "And now," she said, "she's getting ready to add Bancroft and Company to her holdings. She asked if I'd vote my block of shares in her favor when she'd acquired enough shares of her own to equal a controlling interest. She hates Philip, too, though she doesn't think I know why she does."
"I'm sure he gave her thousands of reasons," Matt said ironically, turning away and shrugging into his tuxedo jacket. The buzzer at the door was ringing incessantly and the sound of conversation drifted into the bedroom as arriving guests stopped in the foyer to relinquish their coats.
"She hates Philip," Caroline persevered, "because it was Philip she wanted, not his father, and she did her damnedest to get him into her bed even after she was engaged to his father. He turned her down repeatedly, and one day he did more than that. He told his father— Cyril—she was a common, mercenary slut who wanted to marry Cyril for his money and who had the hots for him—Philip. It was all true," she said somberly, "but Philip's father was in love with her. He blamed Philip for saying it, and yet he believed him. He called off his wedding and Charlotte, who'd been Cyril's secretary, had to wait years before he finally decided to marry her. Anyway, a few months ago, I told Charlotte I'd think about voting my shares with her when she made her takeover move, but when I had time to consider it, I started changing my mind. Philip is an infuriating fool, but Charlotte is truly evil. She has no heart. A few weeks ago she called and told me someone else was buying up a lot of shares in B and C, and causing the price to go up."
Matt knew he was responsible for that, but he said nothing as she continued. "Charlotte was panicky. She said she was going to do something to make the price drop way down, and then she was going to make her move. The next thing I knew I was hearing about bombs being found in the stores and how it was destroying B and C's Christmas business and causing the stock to drop."
She'd given Matt the missing pieces of the puzzle—the motive for the carefully placed bombs that had been meant to damage business but not the stores themselves, the motive for taking over a corporation that was a bad bet for short-term profit. Charlotte Bancroft had the motives and she had the vast sums of money needed to execute a takeover of a corporation in debt and then to wait until B & C was again profitable.
"You'll have to tell the police," he said, turning toward the phone beside his bed.
She nodded. "I know. Is that who you're calling now?"
"No. I'm calling a man named Olsen who has contacts with the local police. He'll go with you tomorrow and make certain you aren't treated like a crackpot, or, worse, made into their newest suspect."
Caroline stood perfectly still, her face mirroring astonishment as he called a long distance number and ordered the man named Olsen to Chicago on the first plane in the morning—all of it to ease her way through a difficult situation. She revised her initial opinion that he was the most unapproachable man she'd ever encountered and decided he simply didn't want anything more to do with anyone whose name was Bancroft—including Meredith, judging from the cold way he'd said he was about to become her ex-husband. When he hung up he wrote two phone numbers on a pad beside the phone and tore the sheet off. "Here's Olsen's home phone number. Call him anytime tonight and tell him where to meet you. The second phone number is mine, in case you have a problem." He turned back to her, and the hostility he'd shown her earlier was gone. He was still aloof and obviously reluctant to have any other involvement with her, but he unbent enough to say, "Meredith told me you used to be in films. The road cast from Phantom of the Opera is here tonight as well as a hundred and fifty other people, some of whom you probably know. If you'd like to stay for the party, my father will introduce you around."
The party was already shifting into full swing as they walked toward the living room. "I'd rather not be introduced," she said quickly, "and I have no desire to renew my acquaintance with any of the old-guard Chicago socialites out there." She hesitated then, watching black-coated waiters passing trays of drinks among gorgeously dressed women and men in tuxedos. Someone was playing a piano and the lilting music blended with the sound of cultured voices and bursts of laughter. "I—I would like to stay for just a little while though," she said with a sudden jaunty smile that made her look thirty-five instead of fifty-five. "I used to live for parties like this. It might be fun to stay and watch and wonder again why I ever thought they were so wonderful."
"Let me know if you figure that out," he said, his own indifference obviously surpassing even her own.
"Why are you giving the party if you don't enjoy them?" she asked with an uncertain smile, wondering anew at this strange, enigmatic man her daughter had married.
"The proceeds of the performance tomorrow night are going to charity," he said with a shrug.
Matt led her to the edge of the crowd, where his sister was deep in conversation with Stuart Whitmore, and he introduced her simply as Caroline Edwards. Whitmore and his sister had already hit it off, he noted, and he wished he hadn't introduced them. Having Whitmore seeing his sister would be an unwanted reminder of Meredith—especially of that ill-fated afternoon in his conference room when she'd put her hand in his and promised to trust him. She hadn't been capable of doing it that day, and she hadn't been capable of it later when it was more important. Because when it came down to it, he was still a crude nobody to her. She would never have suspected Parker, or anyone else of her own class, of being a murderer or an arsonist. She'd been willing to sleep with Matt—but that was all. She'd have kept right on stalling about living with him forever. She'd liked going to bed with him, but when it came down to actually committing herself to him, to living with him, to being married to him, that she could not make herself do.
