The Shadow of Your Smile

52

At three o’clock Dr. Douglas Langdon and Dr. Clayton Hadley met for a late lunch at the St. Regis Hotel. They decided to select from the light menu served in the King Cole Bar, and chose a table out of any possible earshot of the few other diners.

“Physician, heal thyself,” Langdon said dryly. “For God’s sake, Clay, things are bad enough without you falling apart. You look awful.”

“Easy for you to say,” Hadley shot back. “You weren’t at the funeral with Monica Farrell staring at you. You didn’t pick up the urn at the crematorium and escort it to the cemetery.”

“It was a nice show of respect,” Langdon told him. “That’s important now.”

“I told you we should have given Peter the money he needed to pay off Carter,” Hadley complained.

“You know perfectly well the foundation couldn’t produce that much, and anyway she’d have been back for more in another month. When all is said and done, Peter did us a favor by killing her.”

“Have you talked to Greg today?” Hadley asked. “I’ve been afraid to call him.”

“Of course I’ve spoken to him. We wrote a statement together for the press, the usual party line. ‘We firmly stand behind Peter Gannon, who is innocent of these outrageous charges. We are confident that he will be fully vindicated.’ ”

“Fully vindicated! They found the hundred thousand dollars he claimed to have given that Carter woman hidden in his office. That was in the newspaper.”

“Clay, what did you expect us to say in the press release? That we knew how desperate Peter was when he tried to get us to release foundation money to him? It was Greg who tried to convince him that if it came out that Renée Carter had his child, so what? What’s the big deal? That kind of stuff is in the papers every day. Unfortunately, Peter didn’t see it that way, and he snapped. It happens.”

Both men fell silent as the waiter approached them. “Another round?” he suggested.

“Yes,” Hadley said, as he drained the last of his vodka on the rocks.

“Just coffee for me,” Langdon said. “And we’d better order now. What are you having, Clay?”

“Sliders.”

“And I’ll have a tuna salad.” When the waiter left, Langdon remarked, “Clay, you’re putting on more weight. May I point out that the sliders, those three small hamburgers with cheese, don’t look like much, but they have a lot of calories. As a psychiatrist, I warn you that you are compensating for stress by overeating.”

Hadley stared at him. “Doug, sometimes I don’t believe you. Everything could fall apart and we could both end up in prison, and you’re lecturing me about calories?”

“Well I actually do have more serious concerns. As we both know, we handled the first problem, Olivia Morrow, before she could hurt us. Monica Farrell, our second problem, will not be with us much longer. Soon we will announce that due to some unwise investments the Gannon Foundation will be closing down. Greg can handle the paperwork for that. Then I intend to retire and enjoy the rest of my life in places like the south of France, with great gratitude to the largess of the Gannon Foundation. I suggest you start thinking in the same vein.”

Feeling the vibration of his cell phone, Langdon reached into his pocket. He glanced at the phone number that appeared on the screen and quickly answered. “Hello, I’m having lunch with Clay.”

As Langdon listened to the caller, Hadley watched his expression darken.

“You’re right. It’s a problem. I’ll get back to you.” Langdon snapped the cell phone shut. He looked at Hadley. “Maybe you’re right to worry. We’re not out of the woods yet. That guy Alterman, who was nosing around the Schwab House yesterday, was in Southampton today. He’s already made the connection between Morrow and the Gannons. If he keeps digging, it’s all over.”

Another person will have to die. Clay Hadley thought of the frightened look on the face of Olivia Morrow just before he held the pillow over her head. “What are we going to do?” he asked.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Langdon replied, coldly. “It’s already being taken care of.”