POOR CHARLES, LUCIENNE THOUGHT. He deserved better. She hated to use him, really hated to do it, but there was no other way. She had examined the alternatives before, running over them in her mind, and always she reached the same conclusion.
The poor, poor son of a bitch. She did not like to think of him in prison, or dead. Whereas she rather liked the idea of Jonathan Black in prison.
Or dead.
Jonathan was better off dead. He deserved death, and it saddened her to think that she could not arrange death for him. The best she could do would be twenty years in prison. For Jonathan, of course, that amounted to a life sentence—and a bitter sentence, since he expected to inherit her estate—but still, it was not death.
Jonathan: such a funny man. Always playing such a fierce, intellectual, calculating game. Didn’t he realize he was transparent? Hopelessly transparent? All his petty ruses, his sly little hints meant nothing. She saw right through them.
She lit a cigarette and had taken two puffs when Jonathan strode into the room.
“Lucienne, my dear.”
He bent over her, and kissed her softly on the cheek. She accepted it, then waited.
“Lovely perfume,” he said.
And he kissed her hard on the mouth. She accepted this, too, not rejecting or responding.
After a moment he broke away and looked at her. “A shame,” he said. “It’s gone, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said. “It is.”
He sighed, and dropped into a chair across from her. “How have you been?”
“All right.”
“And our friend?”
“Fine.”
“Have you, ah, re-established…?”
“Yes.”
“Marvelous,” he said. “It couldn’t be better.”
She said nothing. She continued to smoke her cigarette. There are times, she thought, when I loathe this man. When I detest his very presence in the same room with me. A big, fat, ugly detestable man.
Seeing him now, she could not imagine why she had ever found him attractive.
“And you gave him the story about protecting Richard?”
“Yes.”
“What was his reaction?”
“He is suspicious,” she said. “I tried to allay his doubts, but the suspicion remains.”
“Perhaps it is just as well. He is not a fool, you know.”
“I know.”
“How much are you paying him?”
“A thousand dollars a day.”
Jonathan’s eyebrows went up. “Rather much.”
“He insisted on it.”
Black laughed. “Good for him.”
“He’ll earn it.”
“Of course,” Black said. “And then, you do not expect ever to pay him.”
Lucienne nodded.
“You know, of course, that he will think of ways to increase his income.”
“Yes,” she said.
“That means Richard.”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. I am certain Richard will pay whatever Charles asks.”
She shrugged. “It does not matter, in any event.”
“I am not sure. It may be a great advantage. I watched Charles closely at dinner. He is a careful, hard man. Out for himself, uncommitted to anything except, I think, money. Richard is not his friend. Richard is in some ways a model and a goal. But they are not friends. Actually, he hates and resents Richard deeply. That should be useful,” Black said.
“How are your other preparations?”
“Proceeding smoothly. All arrangements have been made. Within two weeks, the scandal will break.”
“The women?” she asked.
“Arriving on schedule.”
“And the stock sale? Is it proceeding according to our information?”
“Apparently.”
“Then there are no problems,” she said.
“None. I am considering certain refinements, subtle touches, fine points to make everything more poignant and lascivious. To increase the press coverage.”
“Excellent.”
She smiled. He came over and kissed her again. “Goodbye, Lucienne,” he said. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
“He’s a handsome one…”
She looked at Black and laughed.