Kiss of Death

MY CAB TURNED off Central Park West and slowed to a stop in front of One West Seventy-second Street, the Dakota. Much of the movie Rosemary’s Baby was filmed in this late nineteenth-century Gothic apartment building. It’s also the setting for Jack Finney’s popular time-travel novel, Time and Again. To some who pass by, this address is a curiosity, or a Manhattan landmark, but to me it’s home.

Nancy Cummings, tall and elegant in a navy blue linen summer suit, with shoulder-length hair the color of champagne, waited for me in front of the stone archway entrance. She was listening intently to Ralph, the Dakota’s day security man, who stood in front of his phone booth-size shelter. Ralph spotted me and hurried over to open the taxi’s rear door.

“Thanks, Ralph.” I greeted Nancy, surveyed her fashion-magazine-cover outfit, and said, “You’re the only person who can wear linen without it getting wrinkled. Don’t you ever sit down?”

Ignoring my lighthearted remark, Nancy squeezed my hand and whispered urgently, “Arnold lied to me!”

“Shhhh. I’ll tell you when we get upstairs.” With her perfect posture and controlled movements, she appeared calm, but I heard the tension in her voice.

We started for the entrance into the courtyard when Ralph called, “You want me to get your mail, Mrs. Tyler?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll keep an eye out for your messenger.” With a salute, Ralph retreated to his post.

Nancy and I hurried past the courtyard’s big round fountain with its profusion of sculpted calla lilies, to the entrance to my wing of the building. Inside, our heels clicked on the marble floor that led to the ornately carved staircase.

My co-op is on the third floor. I always take the stairs, but Nancy usually prefers the luxury of the vintage wood-paneled elevator. Today she was too impatient for that, and followed me so closely I had to accelerate my pace.

The moment I unlocked my front door, I heard the welcome sound of soft little paws running down the hallway toward us. I dropped to my knees just as my green-eyed, all-black cat made a graceful leap into my arms and started to purr.

Nancy leaned over to give him a few affectionate strokes. “Hi, little sweetie.” She straightened up, said, “Let’s make some coffee while I get my head together,” and headed for the kitchen.

While Mr. Coffee did its brewing thing and Nancy set mugs and accessories on the table, I changed Magic’s water and opened a fresh can of Natural Balance salmon for him. “What was Ralph telling you that was so absorbing?”

“Oh, Ralph must have thought you were interested in horses,” I said, adding with a smile, “instead of in a young rider’s father.”

In reply, Nancy yanked the magazine out of her bag, and threw it into the kitchen trashcan. The sound startled Magic, who looked up from his dish in alarm.

Nancy was immediately contrite. Reaching out to give him a gentle rub under his chin, she said softly, “Oh, Magic, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Forgive me?”

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” Nancy said. “I haven’t thrown anything in anger since I was ten.”

I filled the two mugs with coffee and joined her at the kitchen table. “Are you ready to tell me what happened?” She nodded. “Is this about Didi?” I asked, referring to the twelve-year-old daughter of the divorced criminal lawyer Nancy loved, the girl who was a champion rider.

Nancy uncharacteristically loaded her mug of black coffee with three spoons of sugar. “Do you have any of Penny’s carrot cake left?”

Two swallows of sweet coffee later, I heard the story. “Arnold called me this morning and said he’d come down with a cold and he was going to stay home in bed today to knock it out. He said he’d call me tonight. I was worried about him because his housekeeper’s off visiting her daughter this week, so at one o’clock I picked up a big jar of his favorite chicken matzo ball soup and went to his apartment. But Arnold wasn’t sick—and he wasn’t alone.”

My heart constricted with fear for Nancy. Arnold Rose was the first man with whom she had ever been completely in love.

“Veronica was there,” Nancy said. She pronounced the name as though it tasted like poison on her tongue.

“His ex-wife, Didi’s mother. Didi was there, too,” Nancy added. “I wouldn’t have minded Didi—but she and her mother were moving in with Arnold!”

“With Arnold? But you said they were moving back to New York this month, and he was finding them an apartment somewhere.”

“Somewhere turned out to be in Arnold’s building. He never told me that.” Nancy’s voice was full of pain, and anger. “Then today I discover that they’re actually going to be living with him. At least until their apartment is ready—and it’s on the floor below!”

“When I showed up unexpectedly, he looked guiltier than one of his criminal clients. Morgan—he wasn’t that nervous when we were waiting for the jury to come back in a murder one case!”

“Arnold is in love with you,” I said. “If Didi and her mother are staying with him for a couple of days—even if they’re going to be living in the same building, that’s probably so he can see Didi a lot. You said yourself that you wanted him to be close to his daughter. I’m sure this arrangement is just a matter of convenience, for Didi’s sake.”

“Because even men as smart as Arnold can be stupid about women. What’s the wicked witch from Boston like?”

“She’s one of those petite, porcelain-doll types.” Nancy’s tone was biting. “Shorter than Arnold, which means she can wear high heels with him while I can’t. She was all superficial charm, but she treated me like office help! When Arnold introduced us, she looked for a moment as though she’d never heard my name, then she pretended to remember it and said in a sticky-sweet voice, ‘Oh, yes—Nancy. You’re Arnold’s secretary, or do you call yourselves assistants now?’”

“Nothing—for once in my life, I was nonplussed. Arnold told her I was an attorney—and his friend. He actually used the word ‘friend’! She made a big show of apologizing for what she called her ‘natural mistake’ because I’d come to the apartment with chicken soup. I swear, Morgan, I wanted to hit her over the head with the jar!”

“Some divorced couples get back together,” Nancy said. “I never asked Arnold why they broke up, or who left who. It didn’t seem important.”

The phone connected to the Dakota’s reception desk rang. I got up and crossed to the instrument mounted on the wall.

It was Chet Thompson. “Honey, I’m downstairs.” I heard urgency in his voice. “May I come up?”

“Yes, please.” Replacing the receiver, I told Nancy I was worried. “Chet’s here, but he never just drops by without calling first.”

“This must be your day for friends in crisis,” she said ruefully. “He’s gorgeous, but not a pretty boy. He’s accomplished, rich, and straight, and he’s tall enough so I could wear high heels with him. I’m surprised some woman hasn’t snatched him up already.”

The front bell rang. “My Lord,” Nancy said, “he must have taken the steps three at a time.”

As soon as I opened the door, Chet Thompson stepped inside and drew me into his arms. The box he carried pressed against my back.

His kiss was warm and deep, full of desire, but not a “let’s make love” kind of kiss. When we came up for air, I said, “You’re breaking our date tomorrow night because you’re going out of town.”

He handed me the box he’d brought up from the reception desk. A glance told me it was the old Jay Garwood tapes I’d asked Betty to send over to the apartment.

“I’m tempted to let you think I can read minds—or, rather, lips,” I said, “but the truth is when I opened the door I glimpsed a suitcase in the hall.”

“Nancy’s here,” I said. “Come into the kitchen and have coffee with us. Do you want something to eat?”

He shook his head. “No time. Cab’s waiting downstairs to take me to the airport. My father’s had a heart attack.”

“It’s serious. Dad’s in a hospital in El Mirage, Arizona. My mother’s with him, but I want to be there for anything I can do.”

“The minute I know anything. I’ll come back as soon as I can, but I’m not sure just when that’ll be.” In a teasing tone, he added, “You’re not going to run off and marry anybody while I’m gone, are you?”

“Not a chance.” That’s the only thing in my life I’m absolutely sure about. “I’ll pray for your dad,” I said. “Fly safely.” We kissed again, and said goodbye.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I hope his dad’s going to be all right.” From the concerned expression on her face, I thought she might still be grieving the loss of her own beloved father several years ago.

NANCY AND I watched Jay Garwood’s scenes from ten years earlier on the TV in the den, lounging in club chairs. Our feet were up on the big, shared ottoman, trays of Chinese takeout in our laps.

Magic nestled between us on the ottoman. He was watching the TV in his sphinx position: front paws curled under, facing the action on the screen. Soon as one scene was over, I used the remote to fast-forward to Garwood’s next appearance.

“He’s playing a nice guy here,” I said, “but I saw a flash of bad guy in the bar this afternoon. That’s a quality I can use. We need another troublemaker for the Cody-and-Amber storyline.”

Turning to Nancy, I realized she hadn’t been paying attention to me; she was still stewing about Arnold’s ex-wife.

“Veronica must have made at least one trip to the plastic surgeon,” Nancy said. “A nose like hers has never occurred in nature!”