“A sacrifice to the gods to keep them from putting you to the test?” I suggested when she fumbled for words.
She flashed a radiant smile. “That’s it exactly. What a beautiful way of phrasing it! But in the meantime, if you hear from Robbie, send him home. Even if he’s not always happy there, his parents really have his best interests at heart. And I don’t think you can win against BB. He’s too big, and he has too many powerful friends.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I hesitated over my words before speaking again, then said, “Mrs. Trant, you’ve gone out of your way to help me. So I don’t like putting you on the spot. But have you noticed whether any of—well, the men you see socially, BB or Poilevy for instance—would you notice if one of them had lost a medallion from a Ferragamo shoe?”
“What a strange question. I suppose that means you must have found one? Where, I wonder? Are you allowed to tell me?”
“In the street near where Nicola Aguinaldo—the Baladines’ old nanny—died.”
She smiled again but without the radiance. “It’s not the kind of thing I notice, I’m afraid. Now—I’d better take off. It’s an hour on the Ike this time of day, and we’re entertaining some studio execs. I’ll certainly pay special attention to everyone’s feet tonight. Don’t forget about Robbie, will you? He should be at home.”
That seemed to be my exit line. I thanked her for her warning. And for trying to help my little agency. Maybe that was why Baladine hadn’t murdered me, I thought as I went back into my office. Maybe Teddy had told him that Abigail would be upset if they killed me. She knew about the shoe, though. I was willing to bet my meager pension plan on it.
29 Help Me, Father, for I Know Not What I’m Doing
At five–thirty I sent the woman from the agency home. I didn’t want to pay overtime on a job that would take at least sixteen or twenty more hours to finish. And I wanted her to leave while enough commuters were filling the sidewalks that no one would shoot at her, thinking it was me.
Tessa was still working in her studio. She put down her mallet and chisel after I’d been standing in her line of sight for six minutes. Artistic geniuses can’t break their concentration, I know. I told her I was worrying about her safety while Baladine was gunning for me.
“I’m going to take my computer home. It’s the only thing I need from my office for the immediate present. And then I’ll get word out that I’m not operating out of here. We could install a small video camera at the entrance concealed in one of your metal pieces; that would provide a record of anyone who broke in. For an extra five hundred or so we could even get little monitors so we could watch the entrance. And we could install a five–digit number pad with a breaker that froze it if someone tried more than three times in ten minutes to open it. With those you should be pretty safe.”
She wiped her face with a used towel, leaving a film of glittery dust on her cheeks. “Oh, damn you for being so noble, Vic. I was all set to chew your ass into tiny pieces. Now what am I supposed to do?”
“If you’d chew up BB Baladine it would be more helpful. I know everyone thinks I’m in this mess because I’m too impulsive, but honestly, all I did was stop to help a woman in the road.”
“That means something to you, I suppose. Get me a video camera installed tomorrow, and a new number pad, and leave your damned computer here. By the way, my daddy is insisting that someone from his staff meet me when I leave here at night.”
“Ah, that would be your mother’s next candidate for the father of her grandchildren?”
She grinned. “She’s hoping. His name’s Jason Goodrich—sounds solid enough, doesn’t it? He’s one of those software whizzes who gurgle in code coming out of the womb.”
“More to the point is whether the boy knows how to disarm a man holding an automatic. But if you’re happy, I’m happy.”
I went back to my office to call Mary Louise. When I asked her if she would have time to take care of the office security, she hemmed and muttered something about her midterms.
“Pete’s sake, Mary Louise. This isn’t asking you to go into the Georgia mud for a month. It would be a big help if you could take care of the setup. I don’t want to discuss what I want on the phone, but I can come over tonight or tomorrow morning and explain it.”
“No!” she snapped. “You’re not to come anywhere near this place.”
“What on earth is going on?” I was hurt more than baffled. “What have I done to you?”
“I—you—Vic, I can’t do any more work for you. You take too many risks.”