51

I’m leaving for an hour or so,” Kevin Wilson told Louise Kirk, and did not respond to the obvious curiosity in her expression by explaining where he was going. He knew that after his sharp response to her remarks about Zan Moreland she would not have the nerve to question him. He also knew that later, if he gave her a receipt for a luncheon, she would look it over carefully to see if he had marked a client’s name on it or if he had charged it on his personal card.

There had been two more deliveries this morning. One contained rolls of wall coverings, the other boxes of table lamps.

Louise did manage to get in one more question. “Do you want any other deliveries from Zan Moreland’s order to be put in the largest apartment? I mean, I could see that some of them were meant for the middle one.”

“Keep it all together,” Kevin said as he reached for his wind-breaker.

Louise hesitated, then said, “Kevin, I know I’m overstepping myself, but I’ll bet the ranch that you’re on your way to Zan Moreland’s office. As your friend, I beg you, don’t let yourself get caught up in anything to do with that girl. I mean, she’s very attractive, anyone with two eyes can see that, but I think she’s mentally ill. When she went into the police station this morning, she told the reporters that her son was alive. If she knows that, she knows where he is, and she’s been putting on a big act for nearly two years. On the Internet, they have links to some of the video that the media posted that day after the child was reported missing in Central Park. They show her in the park by the empty stroller. You can tell she’s the same woman as in the photos that tourist took.”

Louise paused for breath.

“Anything else?” Kevin asked evenly.

Louise shrugged. “I know you’re mad at me, and I don’t blame you. But as your friend as well as your secretary, I hate to see you get hurt. And any kind of involvement with her will hurt you professionally as well as personally.”

“Louise, I’m not getting involved. I’ll tell you where I’m going. It’s to Alexandra Moreland’s office. I spoke to her assistant, who sounds like a nice guy. I’d like to settle all this with as little fanfare as possible. Quite frankly, I don’t like Bartley Longe. You heard him when he called. He’s like the cat who ate the canary, just assuming that I wouldn’t dream of having anything to do with Zan Moreland now.”

Kevin’s hand was on the door, but then he turned and added, “I’ve studied and compared both of their proposals, and I like hers much more. As Zan pointed out, Bartley Longe doesn’t provide a homelike quality to his designs. He’s too damn grandiose. That doesn’t mean I’ll hire Moreland, by the way. But it does mean that I might accept her proposal, use her materials, make some sort of financial deal with her for all the work she’s done, and get someone else to execute it. Does that make sense to you?”

Louise Kirk could not resist a parting shot. “It makes sense, but is it sensible?”

Josh had braced himself for the meeting with Kevin Wilson. He had his story straight. He and Zan believed that a hacker had gotten into their computer, and they were having it checked. As soon as they could validate that a hacker had made the orders, they could insist that the vendors who had delivered any goods pick them up immediately.

That will only buy us a little time, he thought. There’s no hacker. Zan ordered that stuff from her laptop. Who else would know exactly what to order?

She must have written that letter on her laptop, too.

The phone rang. It was the desk saying that Mr. Kevin Wilson was there and was it all right to send him up?

Kevin did not know what to expect, but he was not prepared to find Moreland Interiors to be headquartered in a relatively small office that was packed with rolls of carpet piled almost to the ceiling and covering half the floor space. He noticed that the furniture had obviously been pushed as far as possible toward the opposite wall to make room for all of it. Nor did he expect Josh Green to be so young. Not more than his midtwenties, Kevin thought, as he extended his hand to Josh and introduced himself.

Recognizing the supplier’s name stamped on the heavy paper covering the carpet, he asked, “Is all that stuff intended for my model apartments as well?”

“Mr. Wilson,” Josh began.

“No need for formalities. It’s Kevin.”

“All right, Kevin. This is what happened. A hacker must have gotten into our computer and placed those orders. That’s the only explanation I can offer.”

“Do you know that we’ve had three deliveries so far this morning to 701 Carlton Place?” Kevin asked. Then, seeing the stunned expression on the young man’s face, he said, “I gather you didn’t know that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Josh, I know Zan went into the police station with her lawyer this morning. Do you expect her back soon?”

“I don’t know,” Josh said, making no effort to hide the concern in his voice.

“How long have you been working with her?” Kevin asked.

“Almost two years.”

“I chose her to submit a plan for my model apartments based on the fact that I was a guest in a home in Darien, Connecticut, and in an apartment on Fifth Avenue, two separate jobs that she had just finished decorating six months ago.”

“That would be the Campion home and the Lyons apartment.”

“Did you actively work on those jobs?” Kevin asked.

Where is this going? Josh asked himself. “Yes, I did. Of course, Zan is the designer and I’m her assistant. Since we were doing both jobs at the same time, we alternated covering the day-by-day activity of each project.”

“I see.” I like this guy, Kevin thought. He’s a straight shooter. Whatever Zan Moreland’s problems, she designed exactly what’s right for those apartments. I don’t want to deal with Bartley Longe and I don’t like his designs as much. And I can’t start inviting other designers to submit plans. The board is already screaming about the delays in having the model apartments completed.

The door opened behind him. He turned to see Zan Moreland come into the office, with some older man who he guessed would be her lawyer. Zan was biting her lip trying to hold back the sobs that were racking her shoulders. Her eyes were swollen from crying and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

Kevin knew he had no business there. He looked at Josh. “I’ll call Starr Carpeting,” he said, “and tell them to pick up all this stuff and deliver it to Carlton Place. If any more deliveries like this come in, don’t accept them. Send them to Carlton Place as well as all the invoices. I’ll be in touch.”

Zan had turned her back to him. He knew she was embarrassed for him to see her weeping. He left without speaking to her, but as he waited for the elevator he knew that, more than anything, he wanted to go back and put his arms around Zan.

Sense and sensible, he thought wryly, as the elevator door opened and he stepped into it. Wait till I tell Louise what I’ve done.