Unfair Advantage

CHAPTER NINETEEN



Mayan watched Coolidge, the majordomo, carry out the last two pieces of luggage that would travel via taxi with her to her temporary new home. She gazed around the pink suite. She\'d spent an important chapter of her life here. Improved herself, learned many things. The huge, four-story, east Sixty-third Street historic mansion owned by her benefactor and friend, Julia Draper-Hillington, had offered a nurturing haven.



For a terrible moment she wondered if she did the right thing accepting the proposal. What sort of fool moved in with a man she knew went to great pains to conceal his name and history? Julia had taken the news with grace. She\'d only taken Mayan\'s hand and asked, "My sunflower, are you quite certain you wish to place yourself at his very questionable mercy?"



Mayan kept posing the same question. What made her willing to enter his world? Rely upon him? Did love justify this kind of ill-advised leap of faith?



Maybe with a steady relationship, he\'d come to want a more normal life. Whatever he did that required the phantom identity - insider trading, drug traffic, smuggling - might lose its appeal. He might retire.



At the heart of the matter, she imagined she acted with the same hysterical blindness countless other woman had through history. It didn\'t make it right. But, she had to have something to tell herself as she said goodbye to the life she\'d created here.



Picking up her purse from the table where she always placed it, Mayan took out her house keys. She laid them upon the polished teak and went down to the waiting taxi.





Dani dried her hair after she showered, washed the sheets, turned off the ringers on both phones. Determined to have one full day of peace and quiet. She told Officer Darren at the door to inform the detectives she intended to spend the day at home alone. Then, she called a discreet shopping service she\'d used in her other life. The agent brought everything on her grocery list, including desserts from the Russian Tea Room and two meals from an Asian fusion vegan restaurant she used to frequent in her neurotic twelve-hundred-calories-a-day years. He also brought a DVD player and a list of recent releases she requested, and a bottle of really great fume blanc.



She got cozy on the couch with Buddy, a roasted baby vegetable mini tart, and a little glass of white wine. Two movies later she did an hour on the treadmill with her walking partner, ran herself a hot bath and soaked. The day had aged. Mid afternoon saw her emerging from her dip in the tub, dressing in pj\'s and digging into the goodies from the Tea Room. She watched a third movie, napped for a half hour, then made scrambled eggs and turkey bacon for an early dinner. After making up the bed fresh, she let Buddy out for a final bathroom break, locked up and crashed.



When Dani checked her caller ID the following AM, she had seven from Ashlyn, one from her parents, about twelve unfamiliar numbers that made her cringe, and one from Fielding\'s cell.



None from Larkin. She hadn\'t wanted to hear from him. Considered their night together an unrepeatable risky mistake. Still, Inner Bitch wondered \'What the hell?\'



Dani called her parents first. Her mother answered, "Hello?"



After all these years, still no caller ID. "Hello, Mom. It\'s me."



"Danielle, we\'ve worried so. Are you all right? The Forsythes down the street saw something on the Internet about pictures of your apartment in the city. Is something wrong?"



Her stomach knotted. "The curiosity is getting out of hand. Media\'s fueling it. Nothing to worry about."



"Well. All right, then."



"Listen, I\'m going to stay here a bit. I\'ll call you in a few days. Okay?"



"We love you, dear."



"I know, Mom. I love you both, too." Dani saw the screen of her cell light up, display Ashlyn\'s mobile. "I have to go."



"Goodbye, dear."



Dani hung up, picked up her other phone, answered, "Hey."



"Girl, you don\'t drop off the face of God\'s good Earth and not warn me. I\'m half Cajun. You want that temper on you?"



"Not really."



"Then you better tell this baby-faced cop at the lobby doors to let me in."



She laughed. "You\'re here? Should have known you wouldn\'t tolerate my going to ground. I\'ll tell them." Dani hung up, poked her head out to Officer Darren to admit her friend. The she waited until she heard the insistent knock, opened the door.



Ashlyn looked fabulous in red slides, black jeans, a red halter and lipstick to match. The woman was just an outrageously lovely example of the species.



Dani looked closer at the halter. "Is that my Valentino you borrowed six months ago?"



"It\'s from your Other Life wardrobe," her chocolate eyes sparkled, "I never saw you wear it and you didn\'t miss it until now." She shook her finger. "You scared me."



"Sorry."



Buddy bounded in from the courtyard, went straight to Ashlyn for a rubbing, then into the kitchen to noisily crunch puppy kibble.



Ashlyn smiled. "A few days in the city sounded good anyway."



"I\'m glad you came." Her secret suddenly swelled to bursting. Dani whispered, "I slept with Larkin."



For a second no change of expression, silence. "He\'s beautiful, but you\'re probably crazy."



"I know." It felt great to unburden. So she told all.







Roarke stared at the memo on his desk for a full three minutes before he realized he didn\'t recognize it. His mind refused to focus. At least on anything but Dani. From Ferreli, the cover sheet bore the header FYEO. He\'d opened the manila envelope without much notice. So he checked out the front. D. Larkin, per private matter.



He shook off his preoccupation, read the letter.



Larkin:

I suspect we have one of our own hemorrhaging info to media. After much careful questioning, I\'ve realized that only one of the detectives present in the room the day Miss R came in could have both started and continued the leak. Use best judgment. Damage control when possible.

C.V.F.



Roarke trusted Fielding. Literally with his life. Everybody else he\'d treat as a suspect.





Peta Seymour needed a follow up. This psychic thing had to retain it\'s snap, it\'s verve. New ground had to be tilled up and yield fresh interest or the whole thing fizzled. Or worse, became the love child of that atrocious gossip magazine. After all her working churning up previous information, she’d found herself totally scooped by that damn Tattle Tales. Even if they’d made up their shit.



She dialed Dominic\'s private cell number. It went to voicemail.



"This is Dom Tanzetti. Leave a messege."



After the tone, she conjured her best tempt-with-sex voice. "I\'ve thought about you all day. If you want to play tonight, call me."



Peta punched the off button of her cordless phone, let it fall carelessly to the desk. That shithead cop better come on his knees groveling for what she offered. Else she\'d get the info she needed and leave him with a raging hard on.





Brand had found the perfect apartment in an elitist sliver high rise. Mayan loved the layout. He suggested she retain a decorator. The resident and estate manager, a Korean man running the Manhattan branch of an investment group, even agreed to a cash sale. One holdup. It appeared the company who owned the two thousand square feet of luxury living had become mired in what was unofficially considered a bogus lawsuit. Until the legal system\'s verdict in two weeks, they could not officially sell.



The proximity to his penthouse made the wait worthwhile. Brand didn\'t like the idea of a live in - whatever - although it seemed tolerable. He\'d have to install more serious security measures on the lab door.



Maybe he\'d get so sick of her, he\'d nix the deal and kick her fine ass out on the street.



That made him smile as he wrote an email to the Korean, arranging for the exchange of a good faith deposit.





Dani received a call from William Winthrop II, Esquire, the lawyer she‘d sent a package to containing details about recent events.



He wanted to represent her against Tattle Tales, and in the civil suit she intended to file against whomever used the photos the delivery guy had taken. She‘d sent the young and heavily praised lawyer an updated fax earlier that morning. He had his research team scrambling to learn everything possible about camera phones in regards to an incident like she‘d suffered. Also, he needed the results from the police‘s tests concerning how the magazine represented itself during the phone interview with Sharon Allen.



With the ball rolling on the legal issues, her mind kept sliding surreptitiously to Larkin. When the phone rang again, Dani reacted badly. She turned over her organic juice, managed to send liquid across the counter and the glass crashing to the floor.



Ashlyn hiked her brows, answered the cordless until. "Hello?" A pause.

"Detective Larkin," her dark eyes flashed and her voice held subtle mockery, "good morning." After a moment she asked, "Would you like to speak to her?"



Dani cringed. She felt as if she\'d regressed about twenty years in relationship savvy. She accepted the phone, determined to resurrect the cool, removed Danielle of her previous life. "Good morning, Detective."



"Compelled to import a chaperone?"



"Ashlyn surprised me with a visit." She motioned for her friend to leave the mess she\'d begun to clean. Ash ignored her.



"She knows," Larkin queried.



Taken off guard, Dani countered, "Does it matter?"



"Only in if she doesn\'t, it will make it that much trickier getting in tonight."



Arrogance again. Although, she found it difficult to fault given they way she\'d behaved with him. "That won\'t be happening. Do you have something in mind for us today? I\'m anxious to try getting more from Sergei."



"We\'ll talk about tonight later." Cop tone. Even, controlled, assured. "For today I like your suggestion."



"Fine. Shall I drive to the precinct?"



"We\'ll pick you up. Hour okay?"



Dani ignored the fluttering in her belly. "See you then."





Roarke stepped off the precinct\'s concrete four by four porch onto the parking lot. The morning started sunny, but clouds darkened the sky and it looked like they might get a storm.



Fielding stood by the cruiser, smoking probably his second Camel. He climbed in the passenger\'s side, stubbed out the cigarette. Roarke rounded to the driver\'s side. He opened the door, slid behind the wheel.



"What kept you?" Fielding asked.



"Spoke to the captain."



"About what?"



"About all this publicity bullshit. I recommended we thoroughly research specific cases where psychics have helped close. Maybe get one of the officers from a good one go with Dani to the media."



Fielding coughed as if the idea almost strangled him. "No shit?"



"If she speaks candidly about herself," Roarke started the sedan, backed from the space, "sets the record straight, the glamour and mystery are taken. They\'re what sell magazines and make a pay-per-view web site with pictures of her apartment profitable."



"Will I have to make another statement?"



Roarke laughed. "Jesus, Fielding. You said that in the tone someone might ask \'Do I have to crush my balls in a vise?\'."



"I hated doing it."



He waited for a small break in traffic flow, stuck the car\'s nose out to wedge open a bigger one. A gold Jag from the next lane made a jerky move to change. He let the long car have the right of way.





Mayan arrived at her temporary home. The elevator ascent conjured so many memories she became damp and a little breathless. He wanted her in his life. Belonging to him alone. Recollections of their time together caused her belly muscles to tighten.



From the back of her mind emerged a terrible thought. What if he had darker sins than smuggling or insider trading? What if her own vocation made her less wary of illegal activity than might prove safe?



What if the man she loved - a ghost - proved dangerous to her as well?