Heather was waiting in Betty’s walnut-paneled reception room, and she jumped up when Betty walked in.
They shook hands. “I’m sorry that your IPO had to happen on a bad day,” Betty said. “But the market always recovers. Always.”
“Thanks for seeing me without an appointment,” Heather said.
Betty thought that the woman looked a like a whore, but she smiled. “No calls,” she told her secretary, and ushered Heather inside.
When they were settled across from each other on matching nailhead chesterfield sofas, Betty asked if she would like to have a coffee or perhaps a glass of wine.
“Maybe later, but right now I want you to listen to something. And then I have a text you need to see.”
“Very well.”
“Some of it is … intimate.”
“I don’t embarrass easily,” Betty said.
Heather played the recording of her and Reid making love—the encounter had almost certainly taken place at Reid’s pied-à-terre on Rector Street—and then the calls he’d made to Dammerman and Julia. “Sorry about the noise,” she said, but it was obvious she wasn’t sorry at all.
Betty waved it off. So far nothing she’d heard was new or even interesting.
Heather handed her phone over. “This is the text about someone named Levin being gone and the kid being missing.”
Betty quickly read through the text. She had no idea what it meant, except that Cassy was apparently missing, and she felt a chill. She listened to the recording again, of Reid’s abusive language with Julia, and his mention of the “greatest financial coup in history,” as well as her own conversation with him.
When she looked up, Heather was watching her, an angry expression on her face.
“He’s got this big deal, and he won’t let me in. And I sure as hell don’t buy his bullshit about taking his bank to all cash. And did you hear how he threatened me and Julia O’Connell?”
“He has a history of doing just that,” Betty said, but she couldn’t get her mind away from Reid talking about a worm in their system, and something about a flash drive that Cassy was carrying, and now she was gone, which was the most ominous thing.
“This could be a blessing in disguise,” Heather said. “I think whatever the bastard is up to is probably crooked, which is why I came to see you. Maybe we can help each other nail him. Send him to jail.”
Betty almost smiled, except she was worried about Cassy, who had probably been so frightened she had gone into hiding somewhere. “I think you might be right about Reid trying to pull off some sort of a fast deal. And I think that we might be able to help each other, if you’re willing to go toe-to-toe with him.”
“You’re damn right. I’m willing to do anything to stick it to him after he treated me like I was some common whore.”
Betty held up the phone. “There’s nothing solid here that would hold up in court, so what we need to do is rattle his chain, get him to lose his composure so he’ll make a mistake.”
Heather was doubtful. “I don’t know if something like that would work. He’s smooth.”
“But besides money, his top priorities are his reputation and his social standing.”
“That sounds like him.”
“How would you like to go to a party tonight at the Met?”
“I really didn’t bring anything formal to wear.”
“Don’t worry, you look fine as you are right now. Where are you staying?”
“The Grand Hyatt on Forty-second.”
“I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Is Reid going to be there?”
“Yes, and so will everyone in the city who counts,” Betty said. “Including his wife.”