The brownstone that housed Landis & Flax, Photography, was located on East 78th Street, just off Madison Avenue. As Kristianna stepped out of a cab in front of the building, she once again admired the charming block of row houses. Old but well maintained. Over the course of a twenty-year modeling career, she could have purchased any five of the best of them, and should have. Yet other priorities—like an impromptu flight to Gstaad for a long weekend of skiing with Rick, or renting the house in Barbados for thirty thousand a month because Larry insisted on being perpetually tan—had interfered with the vague notion she’d once considered of saving money for her old age. Now, approaching forty with a sea of red ink on her bank statements reflecting the cost of keeping an armada of ex-husbands afloat, she was fortunate to make the maintenance payments on the condo in Greenwich Village—the only asset she’d managed to keep in the wake of three disastrous marriages.
She pushed the bell and heard chimes ring out a muted chorus within the building. Entering through the mahogany door, she bypassed the staircase that rose from the terrazzo-floored entryway, opting to travel by elevator to the floor above, which contained the studio and office space.
She exerted herself as little as possible these days, even though her baby’s birth remained five months in the future. Why, at this point, take unnecessary risks with the only asset she possessed that could make her future financially secure?
The elevator door closed behind her, and she pressed the button for the third floor. No, her days of risk-taking were in the past, and that included marriage. Never again would she allow herself to be guided by her heart instead of her head. Three husbands should be enough for any woman, especially when she had the unfortunate habit of picking men who lived off her earnings, even squandered them.
Too late she’d learned to attend to her business affairs. A model’s days of extravagant earnings were few. Every year a new crop of hopefuls, always thinner and younger than the last, descended on New York from everywhere else in the world. Dewy-eyed teenagers, accompanied by their pushy mothers, strutted their nutrition-starved bodies down the runways and chased veteran models like herself out of the business.
The elevator glided to a halt, and she stepped out into a small reception area. She saw no one. Since she’d phoned ahead, and Ted was expecting her, she proceeded down the hallway that led to the work rooms. She wouldn’t take up too much of his time, provided he didn’t balk at her request. Until she knew what arrangements Craig had made with his partner, she couldn’t be sure.
“Ted?” She raised her voice, even though no other sound penetrated the studio.
A faint answer came from the rear, so she continued in that direction, past offices and a closed door that read “Dark Room.” When she emerged into the large studio, with its banks of lights and myriad of photographic background scenes, she found Ted bent over a table, inspecting the insides of a camera.
“Hello.” She used a cheerful voice, hoping to blunt any annoyance he might feel at the interruption of his work.
He looked up at her. No smile, so she’d better be careful.
“I’ll just be a minute.” He returned his attention to the equipment.
While she waited, she walked around the perimeter of the studio. Two large, glass skylights and four times as many windows let in an abundance of light. The walls, soaring two stories to the ceiling and painted a stark white, were lined with enormous blowups of models Craig had photographed: Melody Best, who had a lucrative cosmetics contract, Nina Frost, not yet twenty, and Leo’s daughter Veronica, the new number one, among them. Suzanne Landis in half a dozen poses.
Kristianna’s teeth clenched. Her own face, younger, from a different era, stared down at her, the sultry blue eyes seeming to mock her for past follies. Unconsciously, her hand strayed to her once-flat stomach.
To think that, at thirty-nine, she’d found herself pregnant, and by accident. Still, even with that complication, she’d never wanted to marry Craig. To her surprise, he’d fortunately agreed to acknowledge paternity. Apparently he wanted a child, and she had not needed to press him too hard to agree to a financial arrangement that included generous support payments.
“So.” Ted’s voice interrupted her thoughts. He approached warily, his eyes guarded. “You wanted to see me about—”
“A private matter.”
He stood with his back to the window, the light creating a halo around his bald head. “If you mean about the other day, I hope you’re not going to ask me to be a witness in a lawsuit.”
It took a moment before she recognized his reference to the altercation at the cemetery. “It has nothing to do with that.”
“Good.” With his hand he indicated a level at the bridge of his nose. “I’ve had it up to here with attorneys.” When he headed in the direction of the doorway, she followed him. They walked back down the corridor toward the offices.
“Concerning the partnership?” She hoped Craig hadn’t screwed Ted in some way. She needed his cooperation. According to Craig, the original document he drew up himself, taking responsibility for her pregnancy, was somewhere in his office. She only had a copy. She should have insisted he use a lawyer. “Aren’t you the sole owner of the business now that he’s gone?”
Ted pushed open the door to his office. “It’s complicated.”
She entered the room close behind him. The desktop contained several neat piles of paper. The walls displayed dozens of framed pictures of his work. She recognized Lucinda Worth, wife of the construction czar, posing at their Connecticut estate. Also the society doyenne Caroline Ogilthorpe. Since Ted was the society photographer at the newspaper where he met Craig, it stood to reason he would follow the same path in the business. Her gaze strayed to a framed picture of a group of soldiers in camouflage fatigues, no doubt Ted’s Marine buddies. He looked barely eighteen, posing in front of the group and holding a large rifle.
“Did Suzanne inherit Craig’s percentage of the business?” Kristianna asked.
“Yes, of course. We have a contract to that effect. Originally, it was to go to his first wife, but that was worked out in the divorce settlement. Now Suzanne inherits.”
Kristianna felt her muscles tighten. “You mean you’re doing all the work, yours and Craig’s, and the widow just sits back and collects his original share?”
Ted settled into the chair behind his desk. “I’m working on buying her out. My attorney is drafting an offer that’s pretty generous.” His voice held a note of bitterness. “Anyway,” he leaned forward, “You said you wanted to see me about something personal.” Again suspicion registered in his eyes.
Kristianna seated herself in the chair opposite Ted. “Craig is the father of my baby. I give birth in five months.” The announcement didn’t elicit any surprise.
Ted lit a cigarette, and smoke clouded the area.
Kristianna waved the gray haze aside with her hand.
“Oh, sorry.” He took the hint and stubbed the cigarette out in a large glass ashtray. “What can I do for you?”
She told him about the document Craig had drawn up. If the raised brows were any indication, he seemed surprised.
She thought about Craig’s reaction when she’d told him about his impending fatherhood. “I think he was glad, actually. Even at forty.” Was Suzanne, almost ten years younger, too uninterested or selfish to have a child? “After he got used to it, I think he liked the idea of being a father.”
“You mean it confirmed his virility?”
“Something like that.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he agreed to help financially. Twenty thousand a month until the child is eighteen. That was to continue in the event of Craig’s death.”
Ted leaned back. “He could afford it.”
“I have a copy of the handwritten letter Craig signed just a month ago. He told me he kept the original in a safe place in his office, rather than at home.”
“If you have a copy, why do you need the original, too?”
“A copy might not be considered a legal document if I have to sue in court for child support. I’m sure Suzanne will do whatever she can to nullify the agreement. My attorney says the original will prove his true intent. If it’s destroyed, it will look as if he changed his mind. I can’t risk that.”
She thought of something. “Maybe I’m already too late. Has Suzanne been here? Has she cleaned out his desk or safe or wherever he kept his personal things?”
“Not that I know of. Although she obviously has a set of Craig’s keys, so she could get in anytime she wanted to.”
“I guess I have to hope she hasn’t done that yet.”
“I don’t think so. The cops needed permission to search the studio and she wouldn’t give it to them. I think they pissed her off.”
“So the police never searched this place?”
Ted rose and, apparently wanting to smoke, paced the room instead. He felt around in his pockets but didn’t find what he was looking for. “They came around with a search warrant, but it only covered items they could see from the doorway of Craig’s office. Nothing in his desk or the files and nothing that belonged to me.” He turned to her with a smirk and sat. “But I cooperated. I let them take a couple of Craig’s cameras that still contained film. Also his appointment books and desk calendar.”
That information relayed a bit of hope, but also gave Kristianna a new worry. She put it aside temporarily and returned to her original plan.
She leaned forward across the desk and turned on her most charming, persuasive smile. “Will you help me, Ted? Can I look through his papers? Please?”
Her request hung in the air between them for such a long moment, she feared he was going to refuse. She met his gaze and willed herself not to reveal her anxiety.
Finally he shrugged. “Why not?” He came around the desk toward her.
She stood. “I’m indebted to you.”
He led her down the corridor to Craig’s office. It was a duplicate of his own, except the walls bore framed pictures of models and actresses Craig had photographed over the years.
Ted occupied a straight-backed chair in the corner while she seated herself behind the desk. She glanced briefly over the top, which held a telephone, Rolodex file, stapler, and an ornamental jar with pens and pencils. She began her search in the center drawer of the desk, methodically removed items one at a time and placed them on top. Yellow Post-It notes. More pencils, a staple remover, scissors, all the usual office paraphernalia. In the back of the drawer she found a key ring with three keys.
“What are these for?” she asked Ted.
He crossed over to her, took them from her hand and examined them intently. “This one looks like the key to the filing cabinet, although we don’t usually lock those drawers.” He selected another key, longer and heavier than the first. “This one could be to his house, I suppose. I don’t know about the third one.” He dropped them on the desk.
Kristianna continued her search, finally reaching the bottom right-hand drawer. Tucked away in the back, she discovered a gray metal box with a lock set into the front. As her heart rate accelerated, she lifted the box out and set it onto the desk top. The third key fit the lock.
She looked over at Ted for a moment and smiled, then turned the key and opened the lid. The paper she wanted lay inside, under an insurance policy for the building and what appeared to be receipts for completed work remodeling the office areas.
For a brief moment, she wondered if the police might want to question her again. Fine, they could question her all they liked. Let them try to make the leap from paternity to murder. For a moment she frowned—an expression, as a top model, she learned never to indulge in. Then, her elation over finding the document erased any other thoughts.
“I have it.” She rose from the chair. “I feel much more secure now. Thank you.”
“Sure.” Ted accompanied her to the door of the office.
Her smile broadened, and she placed the folded paper into her large patent leather handbag and shook hands with him.
Clutching her purse with both hands, she took the elevator to the ground floor. As her attorney had warned, without this paper, it might have been difficult to win a suitable judgment in court—perhaps even impossible—but the document ensured that. Soon she would settle accounts with Suzanne Landis.
* * *
Ted stood at the window and watched Kristianna leave the building. Allowing her to remove the document she wanted might well work to his advantage. Certainly the model’s attorney would contact Suzanne immediately on seeing Craig’s admission of paternity. Would the court award many thousands a month for the support of his child? Why not, when astronomical sums were granted to people for things like spilling their own damn coffee in their lap?
If Suzanne had any sense, she would accept Ted’s offer, now considerably lower than originally planned, for Craig’s share of the business. The original contract also entitled Craig’s parents, who contributed most of the start-up costs and allowed free use of the brownstone that served as studio and offices, to twenty percent of the profits. Could he live with that? He didn’t think so. At the end of the year, before he cut a check for Landis Père, he would have to do some very creative bookkeeping. He grinned. He was nothing if not creative.