French Silk(63)

Ariel pretended to reconsider. "I'd better not say anything further. My attorney has advised me to avoid this subject. However, I feel compelled to point out that one of my husband's most publicized targets is located in the very city in which he was murdered."

Claire saw red. Her gasp filled the silence in the cavernous room. She found herself walking toward the TV set, although she didn't remember leaving her seat.

"Are you implying that Ms. Laurent had something to do with your husband's murder?" the reporter asked.

"She's being investigated by the D.A.'s office," Ariel replied evasively.

"Based on what evidence?"

"None that I know of. I'm certain they're questioning her because of her background."

The reporter looked at her with puzzlement.

"Claire Laurent," she said, "is the illegitimate daughter of a mentally unbalanced woman." She lowered her eyes and assumed a sorrowful expression. "With no more guidance than she had as a child, is it any wonder that her life, even her professional life, is ruled by her passions? Think about it. She obviously possesses talent. Why would she squander her creativity by making sleazy lingerie and advertising it in such a vulgar manner? And why else would she choose for her business partner a woman who, for years, has flaunted her immoral lifestyle?"

"You're referring to the model, Yasmine?"

"Yes. These three women—Ms. Laurent, her mother, and Yasmine—are of such low moral character, I'm sure the same question has occurred to the D.A.'s office as occurred to me: Is publishing a filthy magazine their only crime?"

Claire switched off the set. If she listened to another word she was going to implode. Rage had sent blood rushing to her head. Her earlobes throbbed with it; it clouded her vision.

Ariel Wilde had unmitigated gall. How dare she say those things on a national broadcast? Heretofore, Claire had ignored her snide criticism of the French Silk catalog, but now the invectives had become personal. Ariel had slandered Mary Catherine and Yasmine and all but accused her of murder. How much longer could she stand back and do nothing? Passive resistance didn't work on the Jackson and Ariel Wildes of the world. It was time to act.

She paced while weighing her options. As much as she loathed the thought of it, there seemed no way around making a public statement. When she had cooled down enough to speak, she made a telephone call.

"Newsroom."

"This is Claire Laurent."

She had begun by calling a local network affiliate. Her name had been in the news often enough that it was instantly recognized. "Yes, ma'am. What can I do for you?"

"How would I go about calling CNN?"

"We string for them sometimes. I can get their ear."

"If they're interested in my rebuttal to what Ariel Wilde is saying about me, have a reporter contact me."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure someone will call right away."

"I'll be standing by."

Claire hung up, hating what she had just done. She considered privacy a precious commodity. She guarded hers ferociously, mainly for Mary Catherine's sake, but also because Claire intuitively felt that notoriety was tarnishing. In her estimation, to be on public display lessened a person's worth. Publicity seekers were beyond her comprehension. Unlike Yasmine, who thrived on being in the limelight, Claire was content to remain anonymous in the background. For that reason, Yasmine was the one whom people associated with French Silk.

Claire resented being forced to go public. She was also afraid. Between now and her interview, she had to think of words that would negate Ariel Wilde's statements, while keeping her secrets intact.

* * *

The following night she was lying in bed watching a replay of her interview with the CNN reporter when her bedside telephone rang. At first she considered letting it ring. Then, obstinately, she lifted the receiver, but said nothing.

"Claire, are you there?"

"Cassidy?"

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Because every time I've answered the telephone tonight it's been someone telling me to go to hell."

"Wilde's people?"

"Undoubtedly. Most shout an insult and then hang up."

"I guess Ariel's pissed. First that picket line of hers backfired. She got the TV coverage she wanted, but Mary Catherine made her people look like thugs. Then you really put her in her place today. I caught your act earlier."

"It wasn't an act."

"Figure of speech," he said. "You articulated well."

"I meant every word. If Ariel Wilde, or anyone in her organization, maligns my mother or Yasmine again, I'll file a suit for damages that will pitch that ministry into financial chaos."

"You were very convincing."

"Thank you."

"But you didn't deny her veiled allegations that you were somehow involved in her husband's murder." He paused for a response, but Claire remained stubbornly silent. Eventually he said, "If you want, I can pull strings and get your telephone number changed immediately."

"No, thanks. The calls are a nuisance, but the novelty will wear off soon and they'll stop."

"Why don't you turn on your answering machine?"

"Principle. If I'm here, I answer my telephone. I refuse to let them rearrange my life."