New Year’s Day
“This is most interesting,” Phil said as she sipped her morning coffee at the breakfast table. There was a stack of morning editions at her elbow.
“Listen to this: ‘Real-Estate Extortion Ring Exposed. Leader Arrested.’ They certainly didn’t waste any time.
“‘Last night, as thousands of people thronged Times Square to celebrate the New York Times New Year’s lighted ball, the offices of Samuel D. Trout were raided in downtown Manhattan. Papers and financial records were confiscated. In the early hours of the morning, Mr. Trout, real-estate broker and a prominent man in New York politics, was arrested at his Manhattan mansion, and his assets were seized. It was a bad night for those involved in manipulating the real-estate market, as there was a tightly coordinated raid at several other businesses, and more arrests were made.’
“I wonder if Marty wrote this? And how did she find out all this information from midnight until this morning? That’s quite remarkable.”
She turned the page.
“Oh, and this,” Phil said, suddenly somber. “‘Mr. Jarvis Chandler, Commissioner of Buildings for the City of New York, died from an accidental fall at his home last night.’”
“At his home,” scoffed Lily.
“True, but I suppose they didn’t want his death associated with what they hope will become a New Year’s Eve tradition. Plus, it will save Roz from certain humiliation and ostracism by society.”
His death would be better in the long run for Roz. Men like Jarvis, once given a taste of violence, felt no compunction about using it, and Phil had no doubt that the practice would have continued with his wife.
Bev could teach Roz how to survive widowhood and have a good time while doing it. As far as Roz’s relationship with Mrs. Toscana, the two of them would have to figure it out on their own. Phil knew how to keep secrets, and she would keep theirs. Her job was done.
The telephone rang. Preswick wiped his hands and went to answer the call. He came back a moment later.
“That was Mr. Norris, the concierge. A gentleman left a message for you. You’re to go to the window and look down at the street.”
“That’s strange. Did he say why?”
“No, my lady. Just that the man is awaiting your answer.”
“My answer?” Phil stood, dropped her napkin on her plate, and went into the parlor, Preswick and Lily following.
She reached the window, looked out. Everything seemed normal. Just a Friend was at his corner. Carriages for hire were lined up along the curb.
“He said to look down,” Lily reminded her.
Phil leaned her forehead against the pane and looked down to the street. A maroon Daimler, its gold trim gleaming in the sunlight, was parked at the curb. A chauffeur in full driving coat and cap stood at the driver’s side.
He looked up and raised his hand in salute.
“It can’t be,” Phil said. “Lily, my sable coat and hat. Quickly!”
“But you’re not dressed for going out.”
“No matter. I shall be in good hands.”
She slipped into the coat and shoes that Lily brought. Pulled the hat onto her head. “I’ll be back … sometime.”
He was waiting for her, keys dangling from one finger. “A little late, but I’ve been busy,” he said.
“You have indeed,” Phil agreed as she inspected the smooth lines of the Daimler.
“Mine?” she asked.
“Yours. From the powers that be. Would you like to take her for a spin?”
“I would, but first…” She gave him a long look. From his immaculate gray-and-maroon braided uniform to his clean-shaven face but for a very tidy straight mustache. The visor hid his eyes, but there was no fake nose or ears that she could tell, no missing teeth.
“Is this the real you?”
“Most of it.” He reached up and carefully pulled the mustache from his upper lip. “Now it is.” He jangled the keys. “Ready?”
“What’s this?”
“Keys. Get in, I’ll show you.”
Phil took the keys from him and climbed in the driver’s seat. He got in beside her.
“Key in there. Push that button.”
“Really?”
“That’s all it takes.”
She turned the key and pressed the button. The Daimler purred to life.
“Amazing.”
“It’s the future.”
“Where shall we go?”
He leaned back in his seat. “You decide.”
And Phil was more than happy to oblige.