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It was chilly out, and felt more like early fall than late spring.
Conor zipped up his jacket and turned up his collar. He knew he should get moving. Everything was set. He'd had Thurston make sure that Eva was at home, though he'd warned him against alerting her to his visit.
"You want to tell me what's going down?" Harry had asked, and Conor had said he wasn't sure, which was damn well the truth.
But something would go down, tonight. Eva was sitting on a secret and he was going to get it out of her, any way he had to. Conor's mouth thinned. And if Hoyt got in his way...
He had a million reasons for putting his fist through Hoyt Winthrop's teeth, every one of them named Miranda.
Conor looked up and down the street. He'd made a specific request for Hank Levy to watch over Miranda and Hank had phoned to assure him he was in place along with Dave Scotti, another good man, to cover the service entrance.
Well, then, why was he wasting time? He knew, just knew, that the tangled skein of the Winthrop's secrets was about to unravel.
Yet, he had an uneasy feeling about leaving Miranda alone.
But she wasn't alone. Her door was locked, and Scotti and Levy were watching over her.
Conor turned up his collar, tucked his hands into his pockets, and headed for the Winthrop mansion.
* * *
Far above the street, in Miranda's apartment, the shrill ring
of the telephone pierced the silence.
Miranda jumped. Hand to her heart, she reached for the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Good evening, Miranda."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She knew that unctuous voice, would know it anywhere.
"What do you want?" she whispered.
Vincent Moratelli laughed. The evil sound felt like a trail of slime across her skin.
"Your mother knows what I want, darling. Why not ask her?"
The connection was broken and the dial tone hummed in her ear, Miranda started to tremble.
"Conor," she whispered, as she hung up the phone, "Conor, where are you?"
She thought of the message written in Spanish that had something to do with her mother and secrets, thought of Moratelli's whispered words as they had oozed through the telephone.
Your mother knows what I want.
She had received the threat, but Eva was the target. She had been, all along.
Miranda looked at her watch. Less than ten minutes had crawled by since Conor's departure. He'd tell her everything, he'd said, when he returned, but why should she wait? Eva had answers and she wanted them now.
Someone was downstairs, Conor had said, watching over her. Miranda smiled tightly as she headed for the door.
Whoever was down there, she hoped he was in the mood for a little visit to Fifth Avenue.
* * *
Conor knew he'd caught Eva off guard, from the way her lips formed into a thin, unyielding line. She wasn't any happier to find him waiting in the entryway than Jeeves had been to find him on the doorstep.
