Priceless : A Novel Part 4

Charlotte was getting a pretty good handle on her anger now, and she found herself irritated by her friend's lighthearted response to her crisis. Not once had Emily said she was sympathetic or said that she felt bad that Charlotte was going through this or offered to do anything concretely helpful. Oh well. To be fair, she wasn't sure what she would do if the situation were reversed. She smiled at the thought of Emily's parents getting in trouble. For what? Shoplifting at Zabar's? Buying non-fair-trade coffee?

Jim Scarsford, watching her from across the room, saw a brief smile soften her features for a moment, then fade away. Mallory came over and spoke to him.

"We're good here. You can take her downtown now, if you want. Or keep her waiting some more. It's up to you. Sometimes if they get worked up enough, they make a mistake, you know, blurt something out in frustration that they wouldn't have otherwise."

Scarsford frowned at his NYPD counterpart. "I doubt she knows anything. She's been away in Paris for the last year, and before that, she didn't seem interested in anything but boys and clothes. I doubt Charlotte Williams is a criminal mastermind."

Mallory looked less sure. "She would have been arrested for arson if she'd been anyone else, you know that. Yale hushed it all up because Daddy stepped in and threw money at the problem. If she'd been an eighteen-year-old black kid from New Haven, she'd be in jail still, and where's the fairness in that?"

All three men had been watching the Williams family for quite some time. Charlotte surely would have been embarra.s.sed if she knew how much both of these men knew about her life. Including her love life.

She stood as Scarsford approached her. It was a pity he was the devil-he was actually nice looking.

"Can we go now?"

When she stood close to him, he realized she wasn't as tall as he'd first thought. He'd been seeing pictures of her day after day for the last several years, and he'd been prepared for her prettiness. What he hadn't been ready for was the intoxicating mix of reserve and heat she gave out. Very controlled, very elegant, very stylish. But she moved like a cat, and her face was so expressive. He wished for a moment he could take her to bed, really find out what made her smile, what made her eyes close in delight, what made her curl up inside. But that was never going to happen, because he was going to put her father in jail, and that tended to be a dating no-no. Smiling wryly at himself on the inside, he maintained his cool and simply nodded.

ONE OF THE things an expensive Upper East Side education gave you, supposedly, was the ability to make polite conversation with anyone. You might run into a diplomat one day and a king of some small country the next, and a properly educated young woman should easily be able to discuss a variety of neutral topics. But it turned out that riding downtown in a car with a man responsible for arresting your parent was a tough situation to chat your way through. things an expensive Upper East Side education gave you, supposedly, was the ability to make polite conversation with anyone. You might run into a diplomat one day and a king of some small country the next, and a properly educated young woman should easily be able to discuss a variety of neutral topics. But it turned out that riding downtown in a car with a man responsible for arresting your parent was a tough situation to chat your way through.

"Music?" As soon as he said it, he kicked himself.

Charlotte simply turned and looked at him, one perfectly arched eyebrow lifted. "What would you suggest? 'Folsom Prison Blues'? 'Jailhouse Rock'?"

Silence. He'd graduated first from his cla.s.s at Columbia Law, slaved as a junior a.s.sociate at a white-shoe firm, learning the ins and outs of securities litigation, and joined the SEC determined to bring big business and fat cats to task for cheating the common man. Instead, he'd spent most of the previous half-decade watching rich people get richer while getting away with crimes poorer people would have rotted in jail for. He wanted to feel nothing for Charlotte Williams and her ilk, the protected offspring of the wealthy. But she was hot and smart and apparently had a sense of humor even now.

"Sorry, you're right. Not appropriate."

More silence. They were crawling down Fifth, and he cut across the park, joining traffic that was moving a little faster. She gazed out, seeing familiar buildings sliding by, filled with people who presumably had worries of their own. Piles of stubborn black snow clung to the corners here and there. Sometimes the puddles in the intersections got so deep they'd go over her boots when she and daddy were walking to the park, jumping and squealing, even though he'd gotten her the boots with the string at the top, even though his strong arms held her up when she jumped, even though. Sometimes the puddles in the intersections got so deep they'd go over her boots when she and daddy were walking to the park, jumping and squealing, even though he'd gotten her the boots with the string at the top, even though his strong arms held her up when she jumped, even though.

Scarsford looked over. She was looking out the window, her profile still. He'd seen many people in trouble, and some weeks, those were the only people he talked to. Usually, they were chatty, trying to win you over, trying to make things easier by making a connection, hoping you would overlook whatever the h.e.l.l it was they'd done. Not this one, not this girl. She couldn't care less about him. She was probably thinking about what to wear to dinner.

Sometimes they'd go to ride Charlotte's pony, and he would walk alongside her, talking about the trees and the birds, making up stories about what the pony was thinking, about how he dreamed of her all week, waiting for her to come and ride him, and his head would be level with hers almost, because the pony was very small and he was very tall, Daddy was.

She sighed. Scarsford sneaked a look again, nearly rear-ending a cab. The sudden stop made her jump, disturbing whatever shopping spree she was dreaming of. Charlotte turned to him, her eyes full of tears. She looked at him for a long moment, her face the prettiest and saddest thing he'd ever seen, and then the traffic moved again, and so did they, and he lost her to her dreams once more.

Then they were there.

THE METAL DETECTOR was interesting. Scarsford went first, pulling a gun from inside his jacket (Charlotte had been surprised to see it, short and ugly and lying like a toy in the plastic tray), then a wallet, a watch, a cla.s.s ring. was interesting. Scarsford went first, pulling a gun from inside his jacket (Charlotte had been surprised to see it, short and ugly and lying like a toy in the plastic tray), then a wallet, a watch, a cla.s.s ring.

Then it was her turn. She removed her watch (IWC), a tennis bracelet (Tiffany's, a present from her dad), a ring (emerald, vintage, Alexander's), and a collar pin (also emerald, vintage, Alexander's, of course). All told, it represented more than the annual salary of the woman working the metal detector, but she couldn't have cared less. She'd worked there for nearly two decades, and honey, she'd seen it all.

"Shoes?" Charlotte looked at Scarsford, but he shook his head.

"Not here."

"Jacket?"

This time, he nodded. She slipped it off, revealing a simple lawn chemise, sleeveless, utterly see-through, La Perla underwear clearly visible. She stepped over the metal threshold, but it beeped. She frowned, stepped back, tried again. Another beep.

Scarsford was waiting on the other side as the woman stepped forward with the wand, and he let himself follow its path up and down her slender body. Clean all the way down, clean all the way up, but then it beeped at her head. She had been frowning, slightly embarra.s.sed to be holding up the line to be scrutinized by strangers, but now her face cleared.

"My clip."

She reached up to the back of her neck, pulling the transparent cotton tight across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s for an instant, making Scarsford start to get hard, despite his best efforts to think of the tax code. He was lost a second later, though, when her long hair tumbled down, just reaching her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the diamond clip dropping into another tray, and then she was next to him, no beep, just the scent of her hair as she moved past him, the soft curve of her shoulder close enough to touch. What the h.e.l.l was wrong with him?

She was struggling with her watch, and he stepped forward to help, aching to touch her smooth skin.

"No, thank you. I've got it."

Her cool voice made him feel twelve again, and he stepped back.

She fastened the watch, the jewelry, the pin. Then she turned her back on him and twisted her hair, her long, thin fingers gathering it into a knot, revealing the soft nape of her neck. A click. She turned again, once more covered and under control.

"Shall we go?"

Scarsford just nodded, not trusting his voice, and headed to the elevators.

After taking a deep breath, she followed.

CHAPTER NINE.

Jacob looked at his daughter across the table, a cold cup of coffee the only thing on its chipped Formica surface.

"You look lovely, Charlotte."

It had been his first thought when she walked in. Sun filtered down a mine shaft, illuminating what seemed like impenetrable darkness only seconds before. It had been a gray blur, the men in nice suits taking him from his office, the ashen face of his secretary, the ink on his fingertips. It was a nightmare, but now Charlotte was there, and he would hold on to that.

"You look like your mother."

She sat and reached for his hands, so cold. "Have you eaten anything?"

He shook his head.

Charlotte looked around the room. Cinder-block walls with no paint. Painted cement floors, like an old school. Mysterious dark spots on the walls suggested blood and violence. Under it all, a smell of fear and confined sweat. Suppressing an urge to run as far away as possible, she stood again and went to the wide mirror on one wall.

Raising her voice, she spoke to her own reflection. "Scarsford, I've watched Law and Order. Law and Order. I know you're in there. If you don't bring him some food immediately, I am leaving. He's an old man. He has a medical condition. If I have to call for a doctor, you can be sure the press will hear of it." I know you're in there. If you don't bring him some food immediately, I am leaving. He's an old man. He has a medical condition. If I have to call for a doctor, you can be sure the press will hear of it."

She sat back down and smiled tightly at her dad. She had been shocked to see him when she walked in, and the lost look on his face had frozen her own fear in place, forced her to pull it together. She was getting quite an education in her own strength today.

"I'm not old. Nor do I have a medical condition." His quavering voice made it a lie.

"You're not old, Dad, but you aren't young, either, and this must be horrible for you. I know it is for me, and Greta and Davis look as if they could fall apart at any minute. And the medical condition? They don't know that." Besides Besides, she thought to herself, I might have a coronary any minute, just from the pressure of not losing it completely. I might have a coronary any minute, just from the pressure of not losing it completely. But on the outside, she was cool, and among the men watching them through the one-way mirror, only Scarsford had any idea how much pain she was in. But on the outside, she was cool, and among the men watching them through the one-way mirror, only Scarsford had any idea how much pain she was in.

The door opened, and a young man came in, carrying a fresh cup of coffee and some sandwiches. He put them down without a word.

"Eat," instructed Charlotte. "Then we'll talk." She looked away, trying to give him some privacy. She read a poster about her rights that was translated into four languages, none of them giving her the right to take her dad and leave, which was the only one she wanted to exercise.

The first bites of food nearly choked him, but gradually Jacob felt better, some color returning to his face. He drained the coffee cup, tucking it under the older one, neat and tidy.

"What shall we talk about, honey?"

Charlotte paused. For a second, she wondered if he'd lost his mind. His voice was just like normal, but it shouldn't have been. Everything he'd built, everything he'd worked for, was under threat. Why wasn't he storming around? Why wasn't he angry?

"I don't know, Dad. How about you getting arrested for fraud? Seems current, anyway."

He frowned at her. "You're mad at me."

"No, just confused. Why do they think you did this?"

He shrugged.

"Are they listening to us? Can they hear what we're saying?"

He shrugged again. "I expect so, but I don't want to talk about it, anyway. I want to talk about your mother."

She paused. "Why?"

"Because we've never talked about her, have you noticed?"

Fantastic, thought Charlotte. Years of silence on this pivotal topic, and now all of a sudden, he wants to talk about it, now that we're sitting in front of a hostile audience. Years of silence on this pivotal topic, and now all of a sudden, he wants to talk about it, now that we're sitting in front of a hostile audience. A lump started to form in her throat. A lump started to form in her throat.

"Dad, I think we need to focus on how to get you out of here, all right? We can talk about Mom later on, at home."

"There won't be a later on, honey. They're never going to let me out. I know the SEC intimately. They don't tend to act unless they're sure, because it's their own hand in the drawer, if you follow me."

"OK, but they're wrong, aren't they?" In the distance, she heard a man yelling, his anger abruptly cut short by a door slamming. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Jacob sighed. "Did you know your mother had two miscarriages before she had you?"

Tears of frustration sprang to Charlotte's eyes. "Why are you telling me this now, Dad? We need to get you out of here. Don't you realize how much trouble you're in?"

He nodded. "I do. But maybe now that I'm here, I can focus on what's important, which is telling you about your mother and how much she loved you. We tried for a long time to have children, you know. All she wanted was children, to be a mommy. We planned to have lots and lots of kids and go live on an island far away from this one. You and your brothers and sisters were going to run around barefoot all day, swimming in the ocean, wearing just flowers in your hair. It wasn't supposed to end this way."

"Dad-"

"Don't interrupt, honey. She was pregnant again, finally, when the car accident happened. No one knew but me. We were going to tell everyone that weekend, but she didn't make it. And the baby was so small there was no chance. Your brother or sister." He sighed. "All gone."

Charlotte took a shuddering breath. Clearly, she needed some help here.

Jacob just kept going. "And then Miss Millie came, and she took such good care of you, and Greta, of course, and work just didn't make any sense anymore. What was the point, without her? I took advantage of something. A loophole. A small thing. I just didn't care anymore, if they saw me do it. But they didn't see me, so I did it again. It took on a life of its own, rolled on like a s...o...b..ll, and years pa.s.sed before I started to feel anything again. When I did, when I saw that if Jackie were here, she would hate what I had become, it was too late. I was lost."

Charlotte gazed at him in horror. Was he confessing? "Shh, Dad, never mind. It doesn't matter now. Let me get Arthur, we can talk when he gets here, OK?"

She suddenly realized that if they were listening to this, which presumably they were, then without Arthur present, they could use it against her father, as evidence. Right? She stood and banged on the mirror.

"Mr. Scarsford, my father would like his lawyer, please."

A pause.

Jacob was still talking, as if she were still sitting across from him. "Your mother just wanted a simple life, Charlotte. She just wanted to be happy and quiet with her children. She would be so proud of you, of what you've become."

"And what's that, Dad? A spoiled young woman?"

He laughed.

Scarsford came in. "Mr. Bedford is on his way, Miss Williams. The more your father can tell us, the more we can help him."

Charlotte snorted. "Mr. Scarsford, please."

Jacob looked up at them. "You're not spoiled, Charlotte. There's still time for you to have the life you want to have, that your mother would have wanted you to have. You should leave Manhattan, though. It's not a very easy place to keep things simple. Things have a way of getting out of hand."

"Things like what, Mr. Williams? Things like the fund?" Scarsford had moved into the room.

"Don't answer that, Dad. Mr. Scarsford, please leave the room. I have asked for counsel, and this conversation is over."

"It seemed like a small thing at the beginning, Charlie. Just a quick thing that didn't seem to hurt anyone."

Charlotte was starting to cry, her body shaking uncontrollably. Where was Arthur? "Shh, Daddy, don't talk now. We're waiting for Arthur, OK?"

Jacob smiled up at her, just as he always had. "Honey, it's too late for Arthur. It's not his fault." He reached up and stroked the side of her face. "You look like your mom, did I tell you that?"

Charlotte sobbed. "Yes, Daddy, you told me that."

And then she took his head in her arms and held him tightly, as he started to sob himself. "It was just a small thing, Jackie, just a small thing. I'm so sorry, Jackie."

Charlotte held on tight and waited for the lawyer.

CHAPTER TEN.

After that, things got even worse. Jacob had cried for a while and then fallen silent and sullen, refusing to talk even to Charlotte. Arthur had ordered the investigators from the room.

"I think it's clear your father is in shock, Charlotte. I think we should have him looked at by a doctor."