* * *
Eight o’clock classes were just about to convene when Maris parked her rental car in a lot reserved for campus visitors. It was the summer session, so there weren’t as many students rushing into the classroom buildings as there would be when the fall semester began after Labor Day.
Although she had never been here before, she didn’t need to be oriented or to ask for directions. The university campus wasn’t similar to the one described in Envy. It was the one described in Envy.
And it was a long way from the police station in rural Massachusetts where she had been less than twenty-four hours ago.
With Noah’s words replaying inside her head, his death was convenient, she’d driven back to New York with a sense of urgency. Using her cell phone, she had reserved her airline ticket to Nashville as she sped down the parkway, breaking every speed limit between Chief Randall’s police department and the Matherly Press offices in Midtown Manhattan.
She had planned to be in the office only long enough to consult briefly with her assistant and check her mail, before returning to Daniel’s house to pack, then to dash to the airport in time for the late evening flight.
It didn’t quite go according to plan.
Her appearance in the office had galvanized her assistant. “Thank God you’re here. I’ve been trying to reach you on your cell.”
“My battery ran out about an hour ago.”
“Don’t move.” The secretary placed a call. “Tell Mr. Stern she just came in.” She depressed the hold button. “He told me it was mandatory that he speak with you today, Maris.”
“Concerning what? Did he say?”
“No, but he’s been calling since early morning. He assumed you’d be coming in.”
“I had an errand out of town.” She hadn’t had time for a lengthy conversation with the attorney and had said so.
Her assistant apologized. “He made me swear to notify him the moment I spoke to you. He’ll be on line two.”
Maris went into her office and sat down behind her desk. And it was fortunate that she’d been seated, because the news Stern had imparted was staggering.
“Mr. Matherly had in mind to announce his decision when you returned from Georgia. I think he wanted it to be a ceremonious occasion. Unhappily, he didn’t have that opportunity, but, as it turns out, his timing for putting this into place was extraordinary.” He paused, then said, “I hope you’re pleased.”
She was deeply touched to know that her father had placed so much confidence in her. “Enormously.”
Stern had continued to go over the details with her, but the important thing she heard was that her father had entrusted her with the business that had been his life’s work. She wouldn’t take the responsibility lightly. But very proudly.
Stern had coughed delicately, then said, “It’s at your discretion whether or not to keep Mr. Reed on staff. Mr. Matherly intimated to me that having him there even in a menial position might be awkward for you considering your pending divorce.”
So he had known. Of course he had known. His timing hadn’t been as extraordinary as Mr. Stern believed. Probably Daniel had been planning this for some time, realizing that upon the dissolution of her marriage, an ugly battle for control would have been waged. Daniel had seen to it that such a battle would never take place.
“Frankly, your father no longer trusted Mr. Reed to perform in the best interest of the publishing house,” the lawyer had told her. “But, as I said, his continuance with the company is up to you.”
They had talked a few minutes longer. Maris wrapped it up by saying, “Thank you, Mr. Stern. Thank you very much.”
“No thanks necessary. I hope you’ll want me to continue in my present capacity.”
“That goes without saying.”
“I’m honored.” He paused, then asked, “Tell me, Ms. Matherly, how does it feel to be one of the most powerful women in New York?”
She laughed. “Right now? I feel very rushed to make a flight.”
Following that conversation and a swift delegation of duties to her assistant, she opted to leave her car in the parking garage near the office building and take a cab to Daniel’s house.
Where another shock had awaited her.
As she was jogging up the steps of the brownstone, a limousine had pulled to the curb. Nadia Schuller alighted before the chauffeur had time to come around and open the door for her.
“Hello, Maris.”
She was dressed in a black dress and cocktail hat that on anyone else would have looked ridiculous. Nadia had the panache to wear it.
“I understand why you don’t want to talk to me. I know you think of me as something to be scraped off the sole of your shoe. But I need one minute of your time.”
“I don’t have one minute. I’m in a hurry.”
“Please. I fortified myself with two martinis before I came.”
Maris debated it for several seconds, then reluctantly agreed to hear her out.
She had listened with dismay as Nadia told her about her breakfast meeting with Daniel. “I was told he’d had a mystery guest. You would have been the last person I would have guessed.”
“Me, too. I was floored when he called and extended the invitation. I got the feeling that he was sneaking me in while his housekeeper was out. But the real shocker came when he told me about this bogus document Noah was going to press him to sign. He then offered me an exclusive on your promotion. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“The story about the transfer of power will run in my column tomorrow. Mr. Matherly asked me to hold it for a week. I agreed. Of course, when I did, I had no idea that… that he wouldn’t be here to read it.”
Maris had been further surprised to see tears in Nadia’s eyes that even her veil couldn’t conceal. “Your father was a gentleman, Maris. Even toward me.” She covered her mouth with her hand for several seconds before continuing. “I wish I had warned him not to go.”
“With Noah?”
She nodded. “Maybe even more than you, I know how treacherous Noah can be. I never thought he would go so far as to commit murder. But when I heard the circumstances of Mr. Matherly’s death, I wondered.”
“So did I.”
“Noah said as much.”
Maris then told her about hers and Noah’s meeting with the Massachusetts police. “If he did push Dad down those stairs, he got away with it.”
“That morning, as I told your father good-bye, I should have said something. Should have warned him.” Her eyes pleaded with Maris for absolution.
“I had a chance to warn him, too, Nadia. I didn’t, either.”
“I guess all of us underestimated Noah.”
“I guess.”
“By the way, he and I are history.”
“I don’t care.”
Nadia nodded, one woman understanding another’s scorn because it was deserved. “Just before coming here, I had the pleasure of telling him about the shift of power from your father to you. I don’t think he took it well. Be careful, Maris.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
Nadia looked at her closely and with admiration. “No. I don’t believe you are.” She ducked her head for a second, then looked bravely into Maris’s face again. “I never feel guilty over anything. This was a rare exception. Thank you for listening.”
Maris nodded and had turned toward the steps. But before reaching the stoop, she turned back. Morris Blume had stepped out of the limo and was holding the door for Nadia. He nodded politely to Maris, but it was Nadia whom she addressed.
“Why do you suppose Dad invited you to breakfast and gave you this story?”
“I asked myself that a thousand times. I finally reached a conclusion. Speculation, of course.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“He knew Noah had cheated on you, but Mr. Matherly was too old to defend your honor by beating him up. So he wanted to use my column to kick him in the teeth. He knew Noah would be publicly humiliated when the article appeared and it was there in black and white for all the world to see that publishing’s boy wonder had been stripped of his stripes.” Smiling over the irony, she added, “And no doubt your father saw the poetic justice in baiting Noah’s illicit lover with a story she couldn’t resist.”
“No doubt,” Maris said with a fond smile. It was her aged father they’d all underestimated.
“Maris, if it means anything to you…”
“Yes?”
“I think he had fun doing it. He was in great spirits that morning.”
“Thank you for telling me that. It means a great deal.”
She was in the townhouse less than half an hour and had arrived at the departure gate as they were boarding the flight to Nashville. She had checked into an inexpensive chain motel near the airport and collapsed into bed without even undressing. This morning she had eaten a lumberjack’s breakfast, then driven two hours to reach the university.
Now, as she strolled along the paved paths of the campus reviewing yesterday’s startling events, she could hardly believe she was here. She had strong feelings of déjà vu, which wasn’t surprising. She had been here before, through the pages of Parker’s book. Although he had assigned a fictitious name to the university, his descriptions had been dead-on.
She walked straight to the fraternity house, knowing precisely where it was located. It was exactly as Parker had described. The three-story brick building with the gabled windows and the Bradford pear trees lining the front walkway had been abandoned for the summer, but she could imagine how lively it would be when it reopened for occupation in the fall.
From the fraternity house, she followed the path that Roark had taken that blustery November morning two days before Thanksgiving holiday. Parker’s vivid narrative led her to the classroom building where Professor Hadley had his office. She ascended the stairs where Roark had been greeted by a classmate and invited to join a study group.
The second-floor corridor stretched out in front of her—long, dim, deserted, and silent. She passed only one office with an open door. A woman was working at a computer terminal, but she didn’t notice as Maris walked past.
She continued all the way down the hallway to the office numbered 207. The door was standing slightly ajar, as it had been that morning Roark approached it with his capstone manuscript inside his backpack. Her heart was thumping as hard as his as she gave the door a gentle push and it swung open.
A man was seated at a desk, his back to her. “Professor Hadley?”
He turned around. “Hello, Maris.”
She sagged against the doorjamb and snuffled a laugh of self-deprecation. “Mike.”
“Have a seat.”
He picked up a stack of books and magazines off the only other available chair and set it on the floor, alongside several other similar towers of reading material. Maris lowered herself into the chair, but her eyes never left him.
He smiled at her. “I knew you’d eventually figure it out. What was the breakthrough?”
“I guessed days ago that Roark was Parker. At least aspects of him. Yesterday Noah said something that was almost a direct quote from the book. About how convenient my father’s death was to him.”
“As his mother’s death was. It enabled him to move to Florida without further delay.”
“I should have realized sooner that you were Hadley.”
“Frankly, I’m glad you didn’t. Parker’s descriptions weren’t always flattering. I’d have been insulted if you’d seen me in them.”
Her eyes roved the cluttered office. “Parker described your office to a tee. What’s your position here at the university?”
“Professor emeritus.”
“That’s an honor.”
He harrumphed. “It’s an empty title that doesn’t mean a thing except that you’re too damn old to do what you used to do. I get to keep the office till I die. In exchange, once each semester I give a lecture on Faulkner to a couple hundred bored young people who attend only because they’re required to. I’m flattered if one of them stays awake for the duration of my lecture. Beyond that, I have no responsibilities whatsoever.”
Quietly she said, “I’ll bet Parker stayed awake for all your lectures.”
“He was exceptional. In his book, he hasn’t exaggerated how I felt about ‘Roark’ and his budding talent. If anything, he’s minimized it.”
“Is it true that you rescued him from drug addiction?”
“As I’ve said many times, he rescued himself. He’d become reliant on painkillers. Considering what he suffered, I can’t say I blamed him. But it had reached a point where he was taking the pills more to dull his emotional pain than anything else.
“All I did was sound the alarm inside his head. He’s the one who went through the hell of withdrawal and then whipped himself back into shape.” He smiled. “I guess it’s fair to say that I handed him the whip.”
“Still, he’s indebted to you.”
“As I am to him. I’ve been privileged to work with an amazingly talented writer.”
“Too bad he’s not as fine a human being as he is a writer.”
Mike studied her for a moment, then reached across his desk and pulled forward a manuscript that was bound with a wide rubber band. He passed it to her. She looked down at the cover sheet and her lips curled with bitterness. “I’ve read it.”
“Most of it,” he corrected. “Not all. There’s some you haven’t read. Read it before you judge Parker too harshly.” He stood up and made his way to the door. “I’m going for coffee. Can I bring you back something?”