The Groaning Board

out to
Xenia Smith.”
    “Shit. I’ll have to talk to her about
that.” She grinned at him. “It wasn’t my idea.”
    “You’re crazy. You know that? So much
for the chain of evidence.”
    “There’s a briefcase with Sheila’s
initials in the back of Micklynn’s closet, Silvestri.” I
    “You found the briefcase. I can’t
believe it. Our people went all over the place.”
    She shrugged. “It’s there now. It
could have been put there afterward. The place looked as if it had been cleaned
by an obsessive-compulsive. Not Micklynn’s style. When I was there last, it was
a mess—papers, cookbooks, magazines, and dust balls, not to mention cat hair
over everything.”
    “It was clean as a whistle when we
went over it. I was there myself. Didn’t even feel lived in.”
    “Someone made sure you wouldn’t find
anything. The briefcase was empty, by the way. If we could only find out why,
we’d know who...” Her eyelids were getting heavy. “I’ve got to get home before
I konk out.”
    “You could sleep here.”
    “Oh, sure.”
    “I’ll take the couch.”
    “No way. I’ll get a cab.” She picked
up Izz and walked to the door.
    He followed her down the stairs. “I’m
sorry, Les,” he said.
    “So am I. You’re not a domesticated
animal. You try, but it doesn’t work.”
    “I love you. There isn’t anyone
else.”
    “I know.” She did know. Patrice was
the wild-haired woman she’d seen him with on the street. “And I love you. So we
can be friends. We can’t be lovers anymore. It hurts too much.”
    “Okay,” he said. He was solemn and a
shade quizzical. “We’ll be friends.”
    A taxi came down the street, and he
raised his hand. It stopped in front of the brownstone.
    “You can have Izz for your poker
games if you want.” She shifted the sleeping dog to the crook of her left arm
and thrust her hand out to him.
    “Thanks, pal,” he said. He pulled her
to him and kissed her. It wasn’t the kiss of a friend.
    She got into the cab with Izz and
gave the driver her address. Not until they rocketed past Columbus Circle and
up Central Park West did she realize Silvestri hadn’t returned her keys.

Chapter Fifty-Five

     
     
     
    “The perfect
meringue,” Laura Lee said.
    “What perfect meringue?”
    “You’re not listenin’, darlin’. It
was the most marvelous interview on the radio this momin’.” Very patiently she
repeated, “Arthur Schwartz, the food critic, was discussin’ the perfect
meringue with Carol Walter. It was sublime.”
    “Who, pray tell, is Carol Walter?”
    Laura Lee groaned. “Where have you
been, Wetzon dar- III lin’? Carol Walter is a world-class pastry chef and
teacher.“
    “Laura Lee, darlin’, all I know about
pastry I learned at Zabar’s.”
    “Then you don’t deserve the bread I
brought back for you from Pain Poilane.”
    “You brought me bread from Paris?”
    “Just the most famous bread in the
world. A walnut loaf for you. Same for me, plus a sourdough levain.“
    “How can I ever thank you?”
    “Well, you can’t and that’s all there
is to say.”
    “And how am I going to get this
wonderful pain? ”
    “I take it you and the seductive
Billy are still an item?“
    “Sort of.”
    “I have a luncheon meeting up there
with Hem and A.T. and your lover. I’ll leave a bag of pain with
himself.”
    “So,” Wetzon said, “while the body is
still warm, plans for the IPO forge ahead. I read the rumors about it in Crain’s today.”
    “Hem’s the fuel, darlin’. He’s
determined to get this done. My company is determined to be the lead
underwriter. I made the intros, so I have to see it through, though I must
admit I’ve lost my... taste for it. But not a word, since it’s not official
yet.”
    “How are you pricing it?”
    “We’re aimin’ at eleven-fifty a
share. That would make it attractively priced.”
    “How many shares?”
    “Three million five hundred fifty
thousand.”
    “I wonder if the company can make it
without Micklynn.”
    “If you want to get down and dirty,
Micklynn did everythin’ she could possibly have done for that company,
in-cludin’ gettin’ herself killed. There was nothin’ more she could have added
to it even if she were still alive. Except if she were, we wouldn’t be about to
bring it public.”
    “So, as it stands now, a few people
are going to get very rich.”
    “That’s what it’s about, darlin’.”
    Wetzon hung up. She looked over at
her partner, who was holding the