Dinner with Jenna went much as Laurel expected. “I’m here,” Jenna said as she burst into Paul’s, surrounded by a swirl of tote bags, packages and oversized envelopes. Most of the bags were filled to overflowing with samples of the jewelry she designed. Jenna believed in always being prepared. This could mean anything from being dressed to kill, just in case she met a new man, or wearing her work as a kind of performance art, in case she met a new backer.
“Hi,” Jenna said and settled herself and her portable showroom at Laurel’s table. She signaled Mike for a martini and turned to Laurel. “What’s up?”
“It’s been quite a day.” Laurel pushed her long auburn hair over her shoulder and took a sip of her drink. “I really need your advice.”
“This sounds serious,” Jenna said. “Is everyone okay? Your dad? Matt?”
“They’re fine,” Laurel said, “though I haven’t spoken to Matt in two days. It has nothing to do with them. It’s about a woman I talked to today. Her name is Anne Ellsworth. She’s basically alone in the world and I think she’s in serious trouble.”
Jenna leaned forward, elbows on the table, her dark eyes serious as Laurel spoke about the emails she received, including the anonymous warning and the conversation she had with Anne.
“You shouldn’t get any more involved in this than you already are.” Jenna’s voice took on a sharp edge. “You don’t know anything about this woman or the man, her fiancé. She could be making this all up. You told her to go to the police. Let them take it from here.”
“I don’t think she’s a fake. I sensed a real desperation from her and I feel I’ve got to do something. I think she feels alone and abandoned,” Laurel said.
Laurel had lost her mother at a young age and was susceptible to the plight of every needy single woman who crossed her path and unleashed her empathetic side.
“I understand how you feel about people who are on their own,” Jenna said more kindly. “You practically adopted me when you realized I had no family here. But, you can’t take in every stray you come across. You have to think about your life.”
“You’re right,” Laurel said. Jenna would just argue with her if she kept talking about Anne. She’d definitely have something to say if Laurel told her the idea running through her mind since late afternoon. She caught Jenna’s suspicious look and decided to change to subject to one she knew would appeal to her friend. “So, how’s Tony Il Magnifico behaving? Shaping up to your strict standards yet?”
The question got Jenna going on Tony in particular, men in general, and how difficult managing this relationship business was. “Why do men always assume having a little fun means you’re in a relationship?” she asked.
Laurel smiled at Jenna’s role-reversal. She certainly has no trouble getting in touch with her masculine side.
“Tony’s expecting me back at his place at eleven,” Jenna continued. “We’re going to an opening of a new gallery on Greene Street. The guest list is filled with New York’s movers and shakers. Cognoscenti of art,” Jenna gave Laurel a wicked smile, “but they’re people with money nonetheless, and you know how much they like expensive jewelry.” Her eyes brightened. “What pieces should I wear to show off all my talent?”
Laurel thought about how easily Jenna could take her mind off her problems and cajole her into a good mood. It was that way right from the start, a yin-yang friendship with a balance that suited them both. Jenna was even responsible for the meeting that brought Laurel and Matt together.
Laurel’s wide brown eyes crinkled with pleasure. Jenna opened the bags surrounding her and pulled out pieces of beautiful and intricate jewelry. Bar patrons turned to look at the lovely Jenna as she decorated herself. The waitresses noticed, too, and came over to their table. They tried on one or two things over their all-black uniforms of T-shirts and trousers and asked for prices. Leave it to Jenna to make the most of every opportunity, both here and at the opening, Laurel thought. You’d think she was a native New Yorker and not a transplant from the Czech Republic.
Dinner arrived and there was barely room for it on the table.
“Wear these,” Laurel pointed to a chunky amethyst, lapis, and gold rope with matching earrings, “with your long, backless Prada and Manolo stilettos.”
Jenna turned on her mock movie star Czech accent as she smiled wickedly. “Veddy good.” She swept all the jewelry back into the bags and tucked into her dinner of salmon with pesto and mashed potatoes. “We moost to eat fast. I moost to go home and maked myself totally irresistible.” She licked the pesto from her fingers with a graceful flourish.
After dinner, Jenna hailed a cab and stowed all her stuff in the trunk. Laurel could hear her giving the poor driver orders before the door closed behind her. Laurel waved but was sure Jenna missed it in the excitement of backseat driving.
Maybe I’ll stop and get some dessert for later, she thought. On her walk home, Laurel turned into the corner deli for a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and an armful of magazines.
As soon as her apartment door clicked shut behind her, she dropped her purchases on the kitchen counter and checked her home phone for messages. She felt disappointed and worried, too; there was still no word from Anne either here or on her cell.
Putting the ice cream in the freezer for later, Laurel walked into her living room and turned on the TV. Good, I’m just in time for the start of Newsmakers, she thought. The opening credits began to roll and the announcer introduced the feature story on hidden identities.
The program’s host, Jane Paulson, introduced her guest, Laurel’s friend, Manhattan PI, Helen McCorkendale. Laurel had met Helen while working on a story last year, and the women became good friends. Helen was smart and funny, with streetwise instincts honed from years of living and working in the city.
On the set of Newsmakers, Helen and Jane discussed one of Helen’s latest cases. It concerned a wealthy New York businessman involved in training and showing quarter horses.
Laurel was completely riveted by the story. The man simply vanished one evening after a horse show in Katonah, New York. The last time anyone saw him, he was in the parking lot being helped into his van by his new, young wife. He looked ill and disoriented and was barely able to speak. She told their friends and family he was checking into a rehab center for his drinking problem and didn’t want anyone to know his whereabouts. No one questioned this explanation at first, because he’d been in rehab several times in the past. After about a month with no communication from him, his daughter began to believe something had happened to her father. She confronted her stepmother, who stuck to her story he was in rehab. Then, a few days later, the wife vanished as well.
By now, the man’s family was frantic and called Helen. They believed the man was dead. They’d soon be proven right when, about a week later, workers in an upstate vineyard found a body buried in a shallow grave. It turned out to be the businessman.
When Helen began to investigate, she discovered the wife had been arrested seventeen times and had multiple aliases. Laurel shook her head at the information. Can you imagine? One of the arrests was for attempted murder. She had disguised her past and hid her identity so effectively she completely fooled everyone. Her husband never knew who she really was until it was too late. It cost him his life.
Helen went on to say this tragedy might have been avoided if the murdered man checked into his wife’s background before he married her. The Better Business Bureau and many police stations offered information on detecting a hidden or false identity. Another option was to hire someone to conduct an investigation before a relationship went too far.
After the show, Laurel shut off the TV and paced around her living room, fingers trailing lightly over the photos, books and keepsakes it contained,. She felt safe and protected in her surroundings, comfortable in the room’s mellow lighting, with its slightly shabby couch, bright artwork, and family photos that were so much a part of her life. Unlike Anne.
Standing at the window, Laurel raised the blinds and looked out over Sixty-sixth Street. Her view took in the buildings, stores, and neighborhood oddities she knew well. Her eyes rested on the beautiful oak doors of the brownstone across the street, the huge maple that shaded old Mrs. Pierro’s front room window, and the candy store where the grammar school kids and their moms stopped for treats.
She gazed up at the moon, taking comfort in its silvery light. Fat and round, it hung so low in the sky she felt she could almost touch it. She stared at it for a long while, then turned from the window and walked over to her desk.
Laurel picked up her landline phone and punched in Helen’s number, which she had memorized. If she had any doubts about interfering in Anne’s business, the Newsmakers show swept them away. As the phone rang on the other end, she thought about what she was going to tell Helen to put her plan into action.