An Unforgettable Lady (An Unforgettable Lady #1)(93)
"Yes, Lou, I am firing you. I don't want to, but it's obvious that we can't work together."
"You're going to be sorry if you let me go," he said with soft menace. "I've been nothing but loyal to this place and your father."
"I know you've approached several people for jobs."
"I have not."
"Yes, you have. Because Suzanna van der Lyden and Mimi Lauer told me so after they turned you down."
Lamont's mouth tightened as he twisted in his own lie.
"Lou, we're at an impasse. You're not happy working under me and I will not step down. I suggest that you let us buy out your contract. As long as you leave civilly, we'll make sure you get to review the press release and I'll give you a satisfactory reference."
His eyes narrowed, but she couldn't tell whether he was adding up the zeros in his separation package or measuring the distance across the desk so he could hit her.
He jabbed a finger through the air. "I promise this will come back to haunt you."
As soon as he left, she buzzed Kat. "Get security to escort Lou out of the building. Make sure they get his badge and his keys, okay?"
The last thing she needed was to have Lamont stealing the donor lists, assuming he hadn't already.
As she sat down in her chair, she was trying to figure out who she could get to head the Development Department. She'd have to start searching now, because filling a job like that could take months.
* * *
Sitting at the conference table, Smith was impatiently tapping a pen against the pad of paper he'd been using.
Christ, why the hell hadn't Tiny gotten back to him, yet?
He picked up his phone and tried again. When he actually heard the man's voice, he said, "Where the hell have you been?"
The phone connection was fuzzing in and out and Tiny sounded like he was underwater. "I'm trying to get the hell out of South America. Flat Top has finally taken over for me down here and I tried to call you three times this morning. I couldn't get through."
"When are you going to be here?"
"I’m trying to get on a plane right now."
"Don't waste any time."
"Do I ever?"
Smith hung up and dialed Lieutenant Marks's private line. As soon as the guy got on the phone, he said, "What have you got?"
"She's still out cold. They think she's going to pull through, though, which means we might be able to get a positive ID. The crime scene's being combed over but I'm not holding out for anything too goddamn illuminating. Christ, I wish we knew more about this guy."
"Those women in the article were all attacked around the time of the social events they chaired and you know those big parties are exercises in exclusion. Who gets in and who doesn't is a big deal. We should be looking for someone who's getting shut out, someone who's either being denied entrance into the inner circle or someone who was in and is now getting turned away."
He glanced over at Grace. She'd picked up the phone and was speaking, a grave expression on her face. He wondered who she was talking to.
"That's sound reasoning," Marks said, "but at the level we're talking about, the social maneuvering is so aggressive, a boxer would think twice before going to one of those damn events. "Who isn't ascending or descending at any given moment?"
"Those six women in that article, that's who. They're at the top. They're the arbiters of taste in this city, which means they make the decisions as to who gets cut from the A-list. I tell you, this is someone who's been stepped on, either in fact or through his perception of the way they're treating him. And every single one of those women know him personally. That's how he's getting in."
"But we've got no loose ends. You've seen the logs of those buildings. No irregularities and everybody's checked out so far. They all had a reason to be in those places on those days and even more to the point, they all left before the time of death. In and out."
Smith thought about the rear entrance of Grace's building. "Maybe he's coming back in."
"What do you mean?"
"What if this guy signs in and while he's inside he props open the service door or a window. When he leaves, he signs out, makes sure the doorman notices him, but then comes in again the back way. These old buildings are labyrinths. He could wait around for hours if he knew where to hide. It would explain why there's been no forcible entry and why there are no discrepancies with the logs."
Marks was silent for a moment. "Christ, you may be right."
When Smith hung up, he saw Grace watching him. She looked like hell, he thought, her eyes a dull shade of green and her mouth slack. It was as if the light inside of her had been smothered.
"I’m going out to lunch," she said quietly.
"Fine. Where to?"
"Chelsea. I’m having lunch with my half-sister."
* * *
After muscling through a traffic jam caused by a water main break, Eddie dropped them off in front of a pretentious modern art gallery. As Grace was studying its steel and glass facade, Callie came out. With her hair pulled back, she looked less like their father and Grace had to admit she was relieved.