Forgotten in Death(100)
“South-West, or Hudson Yards Skyline, depending on the records.”
“Yes, yes, I remember. I like better Roarke’s Hudson Yards Village. Be that as it may, J.B. overweighted his outlay—he’s a poor businessman—and they needed backing. I—my company—made them a loan, taking a ten percent interest. On both sites. Elinor was not pleased.”
At his satisfied smile, Eve spoke her mind. “You don’t like her.”
“She’s a dislikable woman, as I’m sure you found her. But business is business, and it wasn’t my problem, was it, if J.B. accepted the terms so quickly, and without fully informing her. So we became partners of a sort, and that’s continued on a few projects over the years. Such as the River View project—the renewal of it—where Alexei killed the woman.”
He sat back. “You wonder if they knew of my other … my diversity at the time we made this partnership. Of course, but business is business. You wonder if they ever came to me for a favor. This might be true. It might be true I granted that favor and took one in return. Business.”
He gestured toward an emerald-green bird that hovered with a blur of wings at a red flower.
“Hummingbirds are so industrious. And such a bright sight in any garden. They’re very territorial, and will fight off their own kids to drink their fill.”
He smiled again.
“You wonder if favors continue. If the grandson now in the big office asks for favors from me or seeks my influence. And I can say he doesn’t. I can say he’s not the businessperson his grandmother was, but a far better one than his father. This is a low bar,” Bardov added with a laugh.
He looked at Eve. “This is why you’re here. For the gossip.”
“Yeah, you could say.”
“I like gossip. It adds some spice to the bland.”
“Did J.B. have affairs? Were there other women?”
Bardov’s eyebrows winged up. “Juice as well as spice. Some men can love with their heart, but their body wants more, and their mind allows this by believing it doesn’t matter. Or count. Or hurts no one. The mind lies. But what J.B.’s faithfulness matters in this … Oh, oh, I see.”
He went silent a moment, brows drawn together now.
“You wonder if J.B. indulged himself with this young woman. A much younger woman than his wife, as many men look for. We’re not friends, you see. I’m not a confidant or someone he’d speak to about his infidelity.”
“But you know he had affairs.”
“It pays to know a partner’s weaknesses. I know that for a time and, during this time, there was dispute, tension. As I said, Marta and Marvinia are friends. They are confidantes.”
“Tensions because he cheated?”
“No, not that precisely. Tensions that may have allowed his mind to justify breaking his vows. Their son didn’t want the business. He wanted music, the freedom of it. The fame from it. He has talent, and his mother very much wanted him to pursue his dreams. I know she and Elinor fought over that and Marvinia, outnumbered as J.B. won’t stand against his mother, made a bargain. They wanted the boy safely out of New York during the troubling times, in any case, and so he was allowed to go to the school he wanted and study his music. But he had to take business courses as well.”
“Seems reasonable.”
“Yes, it was a good bargain, but the getting there caused trouble. And their son’s passion for the music caused more. For a time, Marvinia lived separately and there was talk—she talked to Marta—about divorce. The son stayed away—somewhere in the South, I think. Marta would remember. And J.B. traveled, and enjoyed a single man’s lifestyle, for that time.”
“But she didn’t divorce him?”
“No. The bargain—which she might have broken—was kept, as J.B. went to her, romanced her, asked her to try again. So the bargain—that they would not support the son financially—was kept. I have reason to know J.B. didn’t fully honor his vows for a longer time, but the son finally came home, tail between his legs, his dreams turned to smoke. And now he sits in the big office.”
“Did she know he had other women?”
“She knew there were others when they lived separately. She forgave him. I don’t believe she knew he had others after they reconciled. He learned to be discreet and, eventually, learned to be faithful.”
“Was she his type?”
Bardov looked at the sketch again. “Younger women were his type. I don’t know if this girl was. I never heard of J.B. having a liaison that resulted in a pregnancy. I would have tucked that away for use in any future negotiations.”
He let out a short laugh. “This isn’t what I expected we would discuss today.”
“Could he kill?”
The humor faded, and his eyes latched on hers. “You know, as I know, all and any can. Is he a violent man? No. I would know. But he’s a weak man, dominated and indulged by turns by his mother. And perhaps indulged, yes, by a wife who prefers not to look at him too deeply.”
“You don’t like him, either.”
Now he pursed his lips in thought. “I can’t say J.B. is a dislikable man, but he is, under the polish, a contemptible one. He all but frittered away a company and fortune his grandfather and father had built, one his grandmother had steered successfully through difficult times. Then rather than allow his son dreams of his own, he pressured him to accept a legacy the son didn’t want.