An Unforgettable Lady(123)

"Did you let him in? " Smith shot back.

"No. He got a little steamed. I hope he doesn't screw me for this."

Thank God.

"You did the right thing, Joey. Is she home yet?" Smith rushed to the phone next to the bed.

"No, she's not back."

"Tell me what he was wearing."

"It was a chef's outfit. Whites. He said he'd been at the Gala cooking, but they were clean, which I thought was weird."

Smith was dialing Tiny's cell while they talked. "Tell her to call me the moment you see her. Thanks, Joey."

"When a woman answered Tiny's cell, he had a feeling the shit had hit the fan. A minute later, Tiny finally got on the line, sounding hoarse and breathing harshly.

"What the hell's happening?" Smith yelled.

"Ah, shit, Boss."

"Talk!" Smith held the phone to his ear as he started to throw on clothes and strapped his gun holster across his shoulders. "Where's Grace?"

"I don't know. I spent the evening in the ER and this is the first time they've let me use the phone. Look, she's not alone. I think she's got one of the local yokels with her and I know Marks and his boys are around. She's fine."

"The hell she is! They've got the wrong man." Smith slammed the phone down and re-dialed the number on his cell phone while he left his room. He was pounding down the hall to the stairs when Tiny answered again. "How the hell did you end up in the hospital?"

"She maced me."

Smith looked at the phone as if it had malfunctioned. "She what?"

"And I had a reaction to the shit."

"Christ. Take care of yourself."

"I'm sorry about this, Boss."

By this time, Smith was halfway down the building. He hung up and dialed the lieutenant's cell phone.

As soon as Marks answered, Smith said, "How many boys do you have at the Foundation?"

"None. We took them off the detail at her request. She said she was going to use her own men tonight and considering we have—”

"Get some cops over there now. Whoever you have in custody isn't the guy killing those women."

Smith broke out of the hotel through a side door and began running flat out. He was only three blocks from the Hall Building, but it felt like miles.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's the goddamn caterer. Fredrique."

"The caterer?"

"He's already tried to get into Grace's apartment tonight. Her doorman called me. I don't have time to give details. You've got to trust me on this."

"Do you know what he looks like?"

Smith gave a description of Fredrique. "And he's in chef's whites."



Marks was already barking orders as he was hanging up.

When Smith flew into the lobby of the Hall Building, a security guy he recognized looked up from the front desk with a smile. "Hey there—"

"Where is she?"

"The countess? I think she left already. To go home."



* * *



Grace retreated until she felt the chair hit the back of her legs. "What are you doing here?" Fredrique smiled. "I couldn't miss the season's biggest event. The canapés were nice, though I wouldn't have done something so common, of course. Your guests could have been much more impressed. But then you didn't use me."

He came toward her, his squat body moving in a jerky way from anger.

"You've ruined me. All of you," he said, his voice intensifying, "have ruined me. You froze me out. I've lost everything. You think you can just take someone's life and crush it because you're rich and you're powerful. People are toys to you. Toys."

Grace was measuring the distance to the door when she caught sight of the knife in his hand. The blade reflected light with a flash and made her physically ill.

Fredrique's rantings got shrill. "When I was new and fresh, you needed me for your parties to make them good. You demanded me. You wanted me. And then someone else came to town and none of you knew my name. It was like I didn't exist!"

Grace glanced across the desk, searching for something to defend herself with as he got closer. She wished like hell she'd left her father's sturdy crystal bowl of peppermints out. It would have made a fine weapon.