twenty-nine

Harper was in the Baptistery, as Cindy had said, sitting alone under a canopy of gilded, carved oak. Her face was pale and drawn, and her black Chanel suit sagged in places. Seeing us, she gave us a wan smile and stood up. “Thank God you’re here,” she said as she pulled me into a tight hug.

“How are you holding up?” I asked.

“By a fraying thread,” Harper replied.

“Where’s Gracie?” I asked.

“Devin has her,” she said as she ran a distracted hand through her hair. “I swear, I’d be a complete mess if it weren’t for him. I feel like I’m living in a nightmare, and that was before Cindy got here.” Harper paused and closed her eyes. “I’d actually forgotten how horrible she is. Within two minutes of her arrival, it all came rushing back in vivid Technicolor.” Harper sighed. “Did you know that before my wedding she sent me a detailed diet plan, so I wouldn’t look, as she so helpfully put it, ‘hippy.’”

I smothered a laugh.

“And don’t get me started on her behavior when I was pregnant,” she continued. “She sent me article after article about how it was important to remember that pregnancy is a stressful time for the father-to-be, and that I should be a little more mindful of Dan’s needs.”

I stared at her. “You’re making that up,” I said.

“I most certainly am not,” Harper said. “I had it laminated, actually. I thought I could use it at her commitment hearing. I’m going to call it Exhibit A.”

“I may have your Exhibit B,” I said. “Apparently she had lunch with Elizabeth Taylor.”

Harper stared at me in confusion.

“Last week,” I clarified.

Harper gave a wan smile. “I take it that you saw her?”

I nodded. “Just now.”

Harper craned her neck and peered over my shoulder “Is she still lurking by the doors?” she asked.

“I think so. Why? Did you want me to get her?”

Harper glared at me. “Bite your tongue. She’s been hovering by those doors all morning like Cerberus guarding the gates of hell. I couldn’t take her anymore so I came here to hide.”

“I’m sorry, Harper,” I said. “She’s not staying with you, is she?”

“No, thank God,” said Harper, her eyes widening in mild horror at the thought. “She insisted that I put her up at The Pierre. She needs to be alone in her grief.” Harper paused. “Well that, and apparently Burt Reynolds stays there whenever he’s in town, and she hasn’t seen him in ages,” she amended.

“Now that you mention it,” said Nigel, “neither have I. Do me a favor, Harper, if she does bump into him, let me know. That son-of-a-bitch owes me money.”

Harper laughed and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Listen, Harper,” I said, “I’m sorry to bring this up now, but did Dan ever talk to you about the book he was working on?”

“You mean his book of reviews?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yes. He mentioned something at dinner that night about adding anecdotes about various celebrities.”

“What about it?” she asked.

“Did he ever tell you about any of the stories?” I asked.

Harper shrugged. “Bits and pieces. He was being pretty secretive about them, to be honest. It was very unlike him, actually. I don’t think I need to tell you how much Dan liked to crow about his insider knowledge.” Harper frowned at me. “Why do you ask? Do you think his book had something to do with his death?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But I wonder if Dan might have been using the book as a kind of leverage over people.”

“Leverage?” she repeated. “What kind of leverage?”

“Well, I just wondered if maybe he could have been using the stories as a bargaining tool to solicit investors for his play,” I said gently.

Harper winced and closed her eyes in embarrassment. “That sounds exactly like something he would do. Oh Dan,” she whispered. “You dumb, greedy bastard.” After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked at me. “I swear, Nic, I had no idea.”

I gave her a side hug. “I know you didn’t. I just wondered if you remember any of the stories.”

“Just one. It was about Nina,” she said.

“She had a baby, didn’t she?” I guessed.

Harper opened her eyes wide. “Yes, but how did you know?”

I smiled. “Normally I’d tell you that it was because I’m a brilliant detective, but we are in a church so it seems foolish to tempt fate.” Harper laughed. “At Peggy’s afterparty you spoke to Nina as if she’d also had a baby. You played it off as a symptom of baby mush brain, but I saw your face. You weren’t confused, you were embarrassed.”

Harper nodded. “I felt so stupid. I remember Nina’s face after I said that. She looked terrified.”

“Do you know when she had the baby?” I asked.

Harper shook her head. “No. I just know that Dan found out that she’d had it and then gave it up for adoption. I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl.”

Suddenly the sounds of waves crashing on the shore began to play over the sound system. Harper closed her eyes again as if to shut it out.

“Um … what’s with the ocean soundtrack?” Nigel asked.

Harper’s shoulders sagged. “That would be Cindy.”

Nigel gave a slow nod as a seagull cawed from above. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’m still not getting this.”

“And why would you?” Harper asked with a rueful laugh. “Apparently, Cindy found some quote John F. Kennedy once made before an America’s Cup race. Something about how we’re all tied to the sea. She decided to use it as inspiration for the theme of the funeral. Can you believe it? A theme. Who has a theme at a funeral?”

“I’m sorry, Harper. I really am,” I said.

Harper let out a frustrated groan. “You have no idea what a nightmare she’s been. She’s trying to turn Dan’s funeral into some kind of social coup.”

“Forgive me for asking, but how does one turn a funeral into a social coup?” Nigel asked.

Harper shook her head. “I’m not completely sure. I just know that she’s trying to copy President Kennedy’s funeral. You saw her hat, right? I think she’s cast herself into the role of Jackie.” Harper closed her eyes. “It took everything I had to talk her out of a riderless horse with boots reversed in the stirrups.”

I felt my mouth gape open. “You are kidding, right?” I asked.

Harper gave a weary shake of her head. “I wish I were.”

The three of us fell silent as a rolling crescendo of crashing waves and the faint cries of seagulls surrounded us. As strange as it was to hear sounds of the tide slamming onto the beach from inside St. Patrick’s, it was nothing compared to what happened next. The very distinct sound of a jackhammer began to resonate through out the church.

I looked over to Harper. “What is that?” I asked.

Harper let out a sigh. “That would be the water main that burst on East 51st Street. They’ve been at it all morning.”

We all fell silent as the bone-jarring blasts of the jackhammer began to alternate with the sounds of crashing waves and squawking seagulls. After a moment, Nigel put his arm around Harper’s shoulders and lightly kissed her temple. “I think this should be your Exhibit A,” he said.