Twenty Years Later(50)
“When did you find out about Victoria?”
“Not for a while. My law practice was gone—every client, every file, every computer. I don’t remember hearing that Victoria Ford had died for weeks. It took that long to salvage the practice, and Victoria was a new client. I hadn’t started the process of defending her. She hadn’t paid me a retainer. I had more urgent clients to attend to, and court dates to prepare for, once the dust of 9/11 settled. It was some time before I heard that Victoria had died.”
Avery nodded. “Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time. Thanks so much for recounting what I’m sure are difficult memories.”
“Of course.”
“Would you mind if I called you another time, perhaps later this summer, if I get this story off the ground and start formal interviews? By then I will have had the chance to look at all the evidence against Victoria and I would love your opinion on it, and what sort of defense you might have constructed had you been given the opportunity.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
A few moments later, Avery was outside. She looked in the direction of where the Twin Towers had once stood. She couldn’t kick the thought that kept popping into her mind. Roman Manchester and everyone else in his office had gone to the stairwell and started down. Victoria Ford had gone up. Had she simply followed the crowd, would things have been different?
CHAPTER 29
Manhattan, NY Friday, July 2, 2021
INCLUDED IN THE LIST OF CONTACTS EMMA PUT TOGETHER WAS VICTORIA’S best friend, Natalie Ratcliff. Avery hadn’t noticed the name until she was back in her hotel room, and had to do a double take. Natalie Ratcliff was one of the best-selling authors in the country. Her books were in every bookstore, pharmacy, and mall kiosk. With over a hundred million copies of her novels sold worldwide, reaching her was not as simple as making a phone call. Avery’s research revealed that Natalie Ratcliff’s publisher was a subsidiary of HAP Media, so she worked her contacts until a connection was made and a meeting arranged.
Natalie Ratcliff lived in a Manhattan high rise that overlooked Central Park, in the same block of buildings that made up the boisterous penthouses on Billionaire’s Row where Avery grew up. Once an emergency room physician working twelve-hour shifts, Natalie Ratcliff was today far removed from her nights in a hospital. She wrote novels now—chick-lit mystery that was panned by critics but devoured by her adoring fans. The woman had produced fifteen novels in fifteen years, every one a best seller. Victoria Ford’s best friend and college roommate, Natalie Ratcliff was high on the list of folks Avery was interested in talking with.
After her visit to Roman Manchester’s office the day before, Avery had stopped at the Strand Bookstore to pick out a couple Natalie Ratcliff novels. She found two shelves of the woman’s books and went back to her hotel with a bagful of paperbacks. Despite that she was chasing a story and had plenty of work to do, Avery got sucked into one of Natalie’s novels. The protagonist—a portly private eye named Peg Perugo—investigated the shady dealings of a good-looking ER doctor, discovering in the process that good sex trumped Medicare fraud. The story was silly and sophomoric, and kept Avery up until 2:00 a.m. before she forced herself to close the book and get some sleep.
In the morning Avery did some quick Internet snooping and learned that Natalie Ratcliff split her time between New York and North Carolina. She treated herself to a lavish month-long vacation to the Greek isles each year to finish her new book. She was married to an executive at a cruise line, and had three children—two were grown and on their own, one was still in college. She had practiced medicine for eight years before she quit to write novels. She lived on the twenty-second floor of One 57, and her apartment door opened as soon as Avery exited the elevator.
Avery saw the woman laugh and shake her head. “Avery Mason is in my elevator. Is this really happening?”
“I should be asking the same question. The Natalie Ratcliff, taking a meeting with me.”
“Like I’d ever turn it down,” Natalie said. “I’m a huge fan. Please, come in.”
The apartment was large, beautiful, professionally decorated, and offered a clear view of Central Park. It was a view Avery remembered from her childhood. Off the living room was a giant mahogany-studded office outlined by yawning French doors. Avery saw framed covers of Natalie’s novels hanging on the walls, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with her titles. Avery spotted Baggage, the slightly trashy and mindless novel that had kept her up most of the night.
“I have to admit,” Avery said, “I hadn’t read any of your novels when I talked with you, but I picked a few of your books up yesterday and got hopelessly sucked into one of them last night. Couldn’t put it down. So you can count me as a new fan.”
Natalie put her hand over her heart. “Now, that’s about the biggest compliment I’ve ever received. Avery Mason, a fan of my books. Thank you.”
Avery pointed to Natalie’s office. “Baggage. Honestly, I couldn’t stop reading it. Kept me up way too late.”
Natalie smiled. “That’s one of my favorites. It’s my first, so I guess it has to be my favorite since it started everything. Thanks for the compliment. Really, it’s a thrill to hear that you’re reading one of my books. I’m a huge fan of yours, and just love American Events. The minivan episode? I thought I’d have a heart attack watching you sink to the bottom of that pool.”