Priceless : A Novel Part 7

A minute later, she hung up. "Davis, we need to go downtown. Center Street. Daddy's being arraigned at eleven."

"Didn't that happen yesterday?"

Charlotte started to sweat and wished she'd worn darker clothing. "Yes, but apparently, he wishes to change his plea." This time, his eyes held in the rearview, and she shrugged.

THE STEPS OF the Criminal Court Building were thronged with reporters and camera people who were there for something exciting. the Criminal Court Building were thronged with reporters and camera people who were there for something exciting.

It turned out she was the excitement, as her father had already gone in and been heckled.

"Charlotte, Charlotte, do you have anything to say?"

"Is he pleading guilty?"

"Is he pleading insanity?"

"Where's the money, Charlotte?"

Charlotte just tucked her head down and pushed through, glad she'd locked all of that cash in the glove box. Suddenly, a woman pushed through the throng of photographers and hit her on the shoulder, hard, spinning her around.

"Hey, b.i.t.c.h," said the woman, spitting with fury. "You're not going to be so pretty when I'm done with you." And she swung her fist directly at Charlotte's face. Charlotte ducked, and the woman's fist grazed her cheek, knocking her to the ground. The woman jumped on her and managed to get in a few hard slaps, despite Charlotte's covering her face with her arms. It seemed like forever before the police pulled her off, still screaming obscenities. Through streaming tears, Charlotte could see the TV cameras still running, their red lights like a dozen staring eyes. No wonder no one had helped her. They had shots to get, careers to protect.

One camera-less reporter helped her to her feet, and as she went to thank him, she recognized him from the park. That seemed like days ago, but it was just yesterday.

"Miss Williams." He smiled gently. "Are you OK?"

"Mr. Robinson." Amazingly, she remembered his name. "I am, thank you." She looked at her hands, which were shaking. She could hardly feel her face. "Does it look really bad?"

Robinson was pale, though his eyes were very bright. "Um ..."

"It hurts," she said, and then everything went dark, and down she went again. As the photographers realized she'd fainted, they pushed in, surrounding her like the vultures they so closely resembled. The only movement was Scarsford, who was running down the wide marble steps of the court building.

And the woman who'd attacked her, who was sobbing uncontrollably, handcuffed to a policeman.

"IT'S NOTHING AT all, honestly. I really need to get back to Center Street." all, honestly. I really need to get back to Center Street."

Charlotte was sitting on the edge of a gurney, wearing a gray hospital gown with Beth Israel logos all over it, her face swollen, her nose still a little b.l.o.o.d.y.

The doctor peered over the chart at her.

"You can go wherever the heck you want once I'm done here, but if you pa.s.s out again, go to a different ER, OK? They dock my pay every time I release someone and they come back within the hour."

She looked at his name tag. "Dr. Waxman, you said yourself nothing was broken."

He ignored her, completing his work before responding. Scarsford was standing there, as was a female police officer and a very pale Davis.

Finally, he looked up. "OK, look, here's the thing. Yes, nothing's broken, but she walloped you pretty good. It's lucky she didn't break your nose. No plastic surgery in the world would have stood up to that."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Yeah, that's lucky. It's also my real nose."

He shrugged. "Whatever you say. It's up to you, Miss Williams. You might have some delayed shock, you're going to have some minor bruising, but yeah, you can leave now." He looked at Davis. "She should rest, but I get the impression she basically does her own thing."

Davis nodded. He looked as if he should be admitted himself, and the doctor paused.

"Are you all right?"

Davis nodded.

Waxman looked at him a moment longer but apparently decided he would live. He left, barking at a nurse to complete the paperwork to release them, and eventually they were able to leave.

IN THE CAR on the way back to Center Street, Scarsford filled her in. on the way back to Center Street, Scarsford filled her in.

"Your father pleaded guilty and basically hasn't said a word since."

She frowned. "Why would he do that?"

"If he's not guilty?"

"No, why not talk?"

Scarsford looked out the window, not wanting to meet her eye. "Maybe he's protecting someone. Now that his plea is entered, we go straight to sentencing. There's no need for further investigation, no need for him to say anything if he doesn't want to." He looked back. "I mean, he can cooperate with our investigation if he wants to, and G.o.d knows we would like him to, but the law cannot compel him to do anything else."

"Whom would he be protecting? Marshall is already cooperating. Sheila?" Her dad's secretary.

A quick shake of the head. "Nope, Sheila doesn't really get involved in much more than basic office stuff. She's in the clear."

She was silent for a moment. Then she got it. "You mean me, don't you? You think he's protecting me."

"You're all he has left."

"Does he know someone walloped me?"

Davis answered that one. "I spoke to Mr. Bedford on the way to the hospital, to a.s.sure him you were fine. I didn't want your father to hear you'd been attacked but not know you were all right."

"I don't know anything about his business." She looked at Scarsford firmly. "I have no idea about any of it, and I'm still not convinced Dad did anything wrong."

"You don't take his word for it? What's the matter, don't you trust him?"

She tightened her lips and turned away.

"I DID IT, Charlotte. I'm sorry, but there it is." Jacob looked a lot better than he had the previous day. Calmer. Healthier. Wearing an orange jumpsuit. He looked around the visitors' room, which was old and gray, with surprisingly beautiful high, tall windows cut into the thick walls. Ironic, seeing as no one there wanted to be reminded of the beauty of outside. "I can't say I like the dress code, but I doubt there's anything I can do about it."

Charlotte felt stunned. She hadn't mentioned the bruising on her face, but she'd expected her dad to be all freaked out. Instead, he hadn't said word one about it. He was almost relaxed, leaning his elbows on the red Formica of the table.

"You know," he leaned forward. "It's strange, but I actually feel enormously relieved that it's all over. It was very hard to maintain, you know."

Charlotte frowned. "Really? I expect that will be nice for the people to know. The people whose money you took."

Jacob's smile faded. "Yes, that part isn't so good, is it?"

"What about Davis and Greta? You took their money, too."

He looked at his hands. "Yes. That was a mistake. I was hoping to cash them out and just never got around to it."

Charlotte regarded him steadily. Her face hurt, the painkillers were wearing off, and she was starting to feel more than a little bit annoyed. Why had she never noticed how selfish her father was? Maybe she was too selfish herself to pay attention to him. A sobering thought.

"I did mean what I said yesterday, though. I didn't antic.i.p.ate it turning into the problem it did. I found a loophole, and it was more like a game than a plan."

That she understood. Many times, she'd started things just for fun and ended up in bed with people she didn't really want to be with or said hurtful things to other girls or ruined situations without intending to. Mind you, those things were a little different from embezzling billions of dollars, but she guessed it was a question of scale.

"Mr. Bedford says they're probably going to seize the apartment in the next day or so. They've already frozen our bank accounts."

Her father frowned. "Do you have money?"

"I p.a.w.ned some jewelry."

He said nothing for a moment. "Well, that's a little embarra.s.sing. Geller was polite, I a.s.sume?"

She nodded. "He's an honest man." She meant it to sting a little, but there was no sign on her father's face that he felt it.

"So you're all right for money?"

She shrugged. "I have some money. I can go and get a job."

He nodded. "Of course you can. You're a very capable young woman."

She was surprised. "I am? I'm not sure I feel very capable, but thanks for the vote of confidence."

He had already moved back to his favorite topic. "So, Bedford tells me I will probably be sent to a federal prison with some very frightening individuals. He's going to try to get me moved to a minimum-security place. Who knows, I might get some reading done."

"That's a positive way to look at it." She was clearly angry with him, and he finally picked up on it.

"You're annoyed. Is it the apartment? The jewelry?"

"Dad, you stole millions of dollars. You've ruined our lives. I've got no place to live. A woman I've never met was so angry with me she tried to break my nose."

He was surprised, finally. "That's not very polite, is it?"

"She didn't manage it, though."

"Well, that's good. Did they arrest her?"

She shook her head. "Yes, but I didn't press charges. I decided we'd hurt her enough."

"That's nice of you." He considered. "Maybe you should take a vacation."

"On our yacht?"

A quick smile. "No, I think the FBI might be using that now. But maybe you should take a trip." Something occurred to him suddenly. "Did you say they're shutting you out of the apartment?" She nodded. "Listen, this is very important. In your mother's dressing table, there is a key. The key is for a chest in the green guest room. Are you following me?"

"Yes, of course. But what on earth are you talking about?"

"Listen to me. Go to the chest and take out a red box. I intended to give it to you on your wedding day, but I want you to take it now. It's very important, very important indeed, that you take everything that's in that box. Do you understand me?" He looked like the old Dad for a moment, intelligence and force in his eyes, focus and pa.s.sion. No wonder people had trusted him with everything.

She had.

She leaned forward and took his hands.

"No touching," barked the guard.

"Daddy, why did you do it? We had plenty of money. We had each other. We could have left New York and done what you and Mom planned, run away to some island."

"Really?" His face was blank. "What about your friends? Your schooling? Your clothes and toys and ponies and cars? That all seemed very important to you."

Her eyes grew hot with unshed tears. "Compared to you? Compared to watching you go to jail? That's not fair, Dad. If you started this soon after Mom died, then I was only a little kid. I didn't know the difference between rich and poor. We could have gone away then and just hung out. It would have been heaven." Now she was just letting the tears come. "Instead, you chose money, and I lost you. You were always at work when I was a kid, and now that I'm starting out in the world, you're going to jail. Why did you make that choice?"

Her heart was breaking, but her father seemed strangely unmoved. He just looked at her silently as she put her head down on the table and sobbed. Slowly, he reached out a hand and stroked her shaking head.

"No touching," said the guard.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

The apartment had strangers in it. Labeling things. Taking things.

She called Greta and Davis to her room and locked the door behind them. After falling apart with her father, she had come to the conclusion that the going was tough, and she'd better toughen up and get going. Her jaw was set, and her hands had stopped shaking as the taxi pa.s.sed Grand Central, heading uptown.

"OK, they're going to take the apartment. There's nothing we can do about it. Dad has f.u.c.ked us all over, so to speak, but the first thing I'm going to do is pay you two back the money you lost. I'm not going to apologize for him, because I sincerely hope he will apologize himself, but I'm sure you know how I feel."

They were silent, but Greta took her hand and squeezed it.

"So, how much are we talking about. Davis? You can round it up."

"Seventy-five thousand."

She didn't blink. She peeled notes off her pile, shuffled them together, and handed them over. "Davis, you have been a rock in my life ever since I can remember. I cannot tell you how much I love you and appreciate your loyalty and support."