Fifth Avenue

BOOK THREE
THIRD WEEK
CHAPTER THIRTY

The following morning, at precisely the same time Celina Redman was leaving to go bungee jumping with Jack Douglas in upstate New York, and only hours before George Redman left Redman International for his three-mile run in Central Park, Eric Parker was being wheeled out of New York Hospital to a gray stretch limousine that was double-parked at a discreet side entrance.

There were no reporters-Diana Crane had seen to that-and as the chauffeur came around to help the nurse lift him into the back seat, Eric thought that the day he stepped foot back into this hospital would be far too soon. It was time to go home.

Diana already was seated in the back, facing traffic. She wore a black Chanel suit that came just to her knees, the diamond brooch Eric gave her the night they were attacked and a matching diamond tennis bracelet that also was from Eric.

Her legs, sheathed in black stockings, were crossed. Because his leg was extended in a cast, Eric had to sit sideways on the seat facing her. Diana did not look at him once as he was hoisted from the wheelchair and into the back, and there was no conversation once the door shut behind him.

She had been cool toward him since her arrival that morning.

“Is there something wrong?” Eric asked. He knew she had been to Anastassios Fondaras’ party and wondered if something had happened. Celina, George and Elizabeth were there.

“Nothing is wrong,” Diana said.

“Then why aren’t you speaking to me?”

“You really don’t want to know, Eric.”

Fucking women. “Yes, I do.”

“Then we’ll discuss it later-not here.”

The limousine swung out of the hospital.

Eric turned away from her and looked out a window. On today of all days, he didn’t need to deal with a moody woman. Only an hour ago, he learned that because he no longer was an employee of Redman International, he also no longer was under their insurance plan and would have to pay all medical expenses himself-which were rapidly approaching the six figure mark, and would certainly top that number considering the months of rehabilitation he still had to endure. Although money wasn’t a problem for him now, the idea of having to pay for something George Redman’s daughter did to him was infuriating.

The limousine caught a string of green lights and sailed across 69th Street to Fifth. Eric watched men and women and children stroll down the streets and avenues, walking their dogs on retractable neon leashes, jogging with iPods clipped to their waists.

He rolled down a window and breathed in the smells of the city. He would be back soon. The city would be his once again and he would be back on top-only this time without the prestige of Redman International.

When they turned onto Fifth, Diana reached in her purse for her cell phone and started punching numbers. “I’m going to call ahead to Redman Place and make sure no unexpected visitors are waiting for us,” she said.

Eric looked at her. “I thought you already took care of the press.”

“I did,” Diana said. “That’s why no one greeted us at the hospital. But things can go wrong, Eric, so I’m calling ahead to be safe.”

Whatever. Eric turned back to the window. All he wanted to do now was go home, grab a cold beer from the fridge and crawl into his own bed. At this point, he couldn't care less about the press. His mind was more preoccupied with the possibility that he might see Celina or George while they were wheeling him across the lobby. He was on crutches, but they were so awkward to use, he felt they made him look more like a cripple than a wheelchair did.

And Eric did not want to appear weak should he run into George or Celina.

Diana snapped her phone shut. She looked out a window. Eric watched her-something in her features had changed. The fingers of her right hand were toying with the brooch he once gave Celina.

“What is it?” he asked.

“There’s a problem.”

“What kind of problem? Is the press there?”

“It has nothing to do with the press.”

“Then what is it?”

She took a breath and let it out all at once. Whatever anger he sensed coming from her earlier was now an emotion he couldn’t quite define.

“Diana-”

“It’s your apartment,” she said.

Before the pipes burst, the apartment was one of the most sought after in Manhattan for its view of Central Park. It was valued well into the millions. His collection of paintings, antique furniture and sculptures bought anonymously at auction was worth more.

But now, as Eric wheeled through the half-foot of water that already was ruining the hardwood floors, he realized that figure had dropped dramatically overnight.

His apartment was ruined.

He turned to Sam Mitchell, the manager of Redman Place, a man he had been friends with for years-but who now was curiously distant toward him.

“What happened, Sam?”

“Several pipes burst, Mr. Parker.” The man’s sudden formality hung in the air. Mitchell always called Eric by his first name. Now, Eric could only wonder how many other people George Redman had turned against him.

“I can see that, Sam. Mind telling me why?”

“Our men are still working on it. We won’t know until the end of the day.”

He wheeled over to the terrace, where Diana stood with her shoes in her hands. She fought for a smile, couldn’t manage it and looked away. Water dripped onto them from the vacant hole that used to be a ceiling. His cast, the very cast his doctors warned him not to get wet, was soaked.

“How many other tenants went through this?” Eric asked.

“None, Mr. Parker.”

“You mean to tell me mine was the only apartment whose pipes burst?”

“That’s correct.”

“But how can that be?”

“We won’t know until our investigation is complete.”

“I want to know now.”

“We’re working as fast as we can.”

“Pipes don’t burst in the middle of summer. In this building, they wouldn’t burst even in the deepest of winter. I need to know what’s going on. Now.”

The man said nothing.

Diana placed a hand on his shoulder. Eric shrugged it off and wheeled away. He felt like hurling something right now, but stilled the impulse. Water sloshed at his feet.

“I assume my insurance will cover this,” he said, moving toward the bedroom that no longer was a bedroom-maintenance had torn it apart to get to one of the burst pipes. “The paintings alone are worth a fortune. They can’t be replaced. And the furniture-all one of a kind, all bought at auction. Are you getting the picture, Sam? Are you hearing me?”

“You’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“Say it. Nothing can faze me now.”

“I hope that’s so,” Mitchell said, “because when you were terminated from Redman International, you lost your insurance coverage on your apartment. As you know, as a senior employee, it was paid for by the organization. But with your recent termination, Mr. Redman canceled it.”

Eric was speechless. Diana mouthed-but did not say-the word “terminated.’”

“I’m afraid that’s not all,” Mitchell said. “The water is leaking through to the apartment below yours. It has destroyed Mrs. Aldrich’s van Gogh and each of her prized Monets-not to mention the Henry VIII furniture that has been in her family for years and is considered priceless. She told me her insurance company plans to sue you. She told me to tell you to get a good lawyer.”

“None of this makes sense,” Diana said. “This isn’t Eric’s fault. Your insurance will cover it. This has to do with the building itself, not with Eric Parker.”

Mitchell’s words were measured. “While it’s true that our insurance covers our original systems, the problem is that it appears that the trouble started in Mr. Parker’s master bathroom, which he remodeled two years ago. If the report finds that to be the source of the problem, then we’re dealing with plumbing that was altered by a third party. And it releases us from responsibility.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Diana said. “The plumbing was up to code. It passed all inspections-yours and the city’s. You signed off on that.”

Sam held out his hands. “Look,” he said. “I know this is difficult. I know everyone is upset. But when you read the document we signed with Mr. Parker, you’ll note a clause that releases us from all responsibilities when any alterations are made to our original systems.”

“Then the plumbing company is responsible.”

“Maybe,” Mitchell said. “But we’re two years out from that remodel. If it were a month, you’d have a strong case. But two years?” He shook his head. “I doubt it.”

Eric shot Diana a look. What he saw in her face was defeat. Redman bankrupted me.

There was a silence while Mitchell moved across the room to an Art Deco table that was beside a shiny black bar. On it were four vases filled with red roses. “There is at least one bright note to all this, Mr. Parker,” he said. “These roses arrived this morning as a welcome home gift. They’re from Louis Ryan.”

“George is behind this. You know it as well as I do.”

Diana entered her living room with a pot of hot coffee in one hand, two coffee mugs in the other. She was fresh from the shower and now wore a white terry bathrobe. Her hair, curling around her face in slick dark waves, was wet.

“He’s responsible for those pipes bursting.”

“We have to talk, Eric,” she said, sitting in the chair opposite him and arranging the mugs on an end table. “Things aren’t adding up.”

“What things?”

She poured the coffee, handed him one of the steaming mugs and took a sip from her own. She seemed very tired when she said, “You’ve been lying to me.”

Eric was about to speak, but Diana held up a hand, silencing him. “Right now I’m going to do the talking. You’re going to shut up and listen. When I ask you a question, you’ll answer it and you’ll answer it honestly. If you lie to me, Eric, I’ll know. It’s what I do. It’s that special gift that I get paid so much for. And if you do lie to me, that will be a mistake you will regret, because as far as I see it, you need me now-and I’ve just about had it with you.”

She eased back in her chair.

In the window behind her, Manhattan was cloaked in a blanket of haze and smog. There was only the slightest hint of the sun behind the screen of clouds. She reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a rectangular black velvet box. She handed it to Eric and waited for him to open it. With the parting of velvet came a brilliant flash of diamonds and sapphires and rubies.

He looked at her.

“You can have your jewelry back,” she said. “I saw Celina at the Fondaras party and she recognized the necklace I was wearing as one that used to belong to her. She said you bought it for her in Milan, I think, and that the stones were perfect. She said she sent it back to you along with the others that are in that box.” Her voice dropped a note. “She said the sapphires brought out the blue in my eyes. Wasn’t that nice of her?”

She sipped her coffee. “Actually, it wasn’t. In fact, it was embarrassing. I can’t tell you how many people overheard the conversation, but even if one person overheard it on that ship and at that party, all of Manhattan knows by now and I’m probably a laughingstock-something I never deserved.”

“Diana-”

“Shut up, Eric. Just shut up. Are you as tired of your voice as I am? After all I’ve done for you, you at least owe me the courtesy of sitting there and listening.”

He decided to stay quiet.

“You said you bought that jewelry for me because you loved me. How do you think it makes me feel knowing that your love is a farce?” She didn’t wait for an answer because she didn’t want another lie. She moved to the next subject. “You told me that you quit Redman International. You told me that because you were no longer seeing Celina, it was too difficult for you to continue working there and so you quit. Quit. I believed you because I always considered you an honest man. But you’re not. An hour ago, Sam Mitchell said that George terminated you. I want to know why.”

“That’s none of your business.”

She willed herself to remain calm. “If you lied to me, then it is my business. I’ve invested a lot of time and concern and love in you. I was beaten in your apartment by two men who wanted to hurt you for a reason you somehow can’t explain. If it wasn’t for me, you’d probably still be lying in your own blood. If I hadn’t called in a number of favors, your name still would be at the top of the tabloids. You owe me the truth and you’re going to spill it. If you don’t, you can get out of here and out of my life. It’s really that simple.”

Eric reached for his crutches, struggled to his feet and moved to the windows that were at the opposite end of the room. He looked out at the city while she looked at him.

She deserved the truth. But how could he tell her that what began as a terrible mistake during the night of Redman International’s opening had snowballed into a nightmare he couldn’t let go of until Leana Redman paid for what she did to him?

The doctors still were not sure if he would regain full use of his leg. The damage done to his muscles and nerves was more severe than they originally thought. It was only right that Leana pay and he planned on going forward with that. Still, he had to tell Diana something. She now was the only person he could count on. Without an apartment or an income, how would he survive? Lawsuits were coming. At the very least, he needed her guidance.

He moved in her direction. “It’s true,” he said. “I was fired from Redman International.”

“Why?”

“Because I was stupid.”

“What a surprise. How stupid?”

“I almost slept with Leana the night of Redman International’s opening. We would have gone through with it, but I was so drunk, I couldn’t get it up.” He reclaimed his seat. “Is that frank enough for you? She was putting me to bed and telling me to forget about my limp cock when Celina stepped into the room. We were in George and Elizabeth’s penthouse. How she found us there is obvious. Someone tipped her off.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Diana said. The tone of her voice dropped the temperature in the room a good ten degrees.

“It meant nothing, Diana. We were both drunk and angry at life and Celina. It was a mistake.”

“A rather large one, I’d say.” And the room dropped another ten degrees.

“Celina must have told George,” Eric said. “And then he fired me. That’s all.”

“Who attacked us that night?”

“That I don’t know. It could have been anyone. It could have been a burglary.”

“Oh, please,” she said-and the room started to heat up. “It wasn’t a burglary and you know it. Nothing was missing from your apartment. I checked on that the day after you were admitted to the hospital. Those men somehow slipped past security and entered your apartment, which was locked. The police reports show that the door was not opened with force and that the lock wasn’t picked. Whoever did it had a key.”

A silence passed.

“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Who did it?”

Friends of Leana’s. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Do you honestly believe I’d let whoever did this to me-to us-get away with it if I knew who they were? Give me a break, for Christ’s sake. If I knew who was responsible for shattering my fucking leg, Diana, I’d bypass the police and take care of them myself.”

At least that rang true. “You’ve got to have some idea,” she said.

“Take your pick,” he said. “I’ve pissed off a lot of people during my years at Redman International. I’ve made a lot of enemies, especially while working on the deal with WestTex. You know that as well as I do. It could be anyone.”

She leaned back in her chair. So, maybe he didn’t know. Did she care? She didn’t know that either and a part of her hated herself for not knowing. She finished the last of her coffee and poured another cup. “So, what are you going to do now?”

“What do you mean?” Eric said. “I was hoping I could stay here.”

“I’ll bet you were.”

“Only until my apartment is repaired.”

“Really?” she said. “That’s presumptuous. And fixing your apartment will take months. I don’t see it happening. I don’t see you here.” She nodded at the jewelry. “Sell those. That should put a roof over your head.”

“I need your help.”

“I know you do.”

“I’d like to stay here.”

“Tell me,” she said. “How do you plan on paying for the repairs on your apartment? You have hospital bills to pay, lawyer fees to pay and, if you lose the case, a ruined van Gogh, two botched Monets and destroyed Henry VIII furniture to buy. I don’t see how you’re going to pay for the apartment, Eric, let alone the rest of it.”

“Looks like I’m going to have to get a job.”

She wanted to laugh. “Well, God knows you’re a catch, Eric. Naturally, any reasonable person will overlook the fact that George sent you packing, they’ll overlook the headlines you’ve been making, and they’ll just hire you just because you’re the great Eric Parker.”

“One man will.”

“And who is that?”

“You’ve seen the roses Louis Ryan has been sending me. He obviously wants me at Manhattan Enterprises. He’s also got as much money as George-and we all know how those two feel about each other. If I play my cards right, I might get myself out of this mess completely.”