matriarch, arbitrary, capricious, occasionally ruthless.
“Marty, it’s good to see you again.”
The smile seemed genuine enough, but then, everything about Joanna Bardo seemed genuine, from the gathered drapes framing the windows, to the Chippendale chairs in front of her desk, to her double-breasted Karl Lagerfeld business suit, to the pearl choker encircling her throat. Everything seemed genuine, but Blake knew that half the “antiques” were actually stressed reproductions. That Joanna’s suit, shoes, and jewelry came from a garment-center loan shark whose corporate offices were regularly swept for bugs and taps by Manhattan Executive technicians.
“It’s nice to be home.” If Joanna wanted to be rid of him, Blake was determined to make it as hard as possible.
“Sit down, Marty. Have a cup of coffee.”
As if by magic, Cynthia Barret, bearing Manhattan Exec’s top-of-the-line coffee service, appeared in the doorway.
“That’s bad,” Blake said, as soon as they were alone. He pointed to the tray, then sat down.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m not a CEO. Because I’m not even a senior vice president. Because you didn’t offer me a mug and let me fill it myself.”
Blake watched Joanna compose her features. She hadn’t changed much. The same slightly protruding Mediterranean eyes, with their dark, arching brows, dominated a straight nose, cupid’s-bow mouth, and small, sharp chin. Set in a narrow frame, her doe-eyed, vulnerable face appeared soft and weak. Which was a big joke to Blake, who knew that carefully maintained expression masked a sharp, straight-for-the-jugular intelligence. He’d seen Joanna in defense of her realm, her queendom, her subjects. Seen times when she showed all the vulnerability of a cornered wolverine.
“When you haven’t been somewhere for more than a year, you become a special visitor.”
Blake shrugged, stalled for time. Wondering if she’d been hurt by his neglect. If he was dealing with nothing worse than a bruised ego.
“The thing of it is, Joanna, I came within a yard of going to jail for ten years, within an inch of losing my license forever. So, I decided to do a Caesar’s wife bit. You know—above suspicion.” He gave her the crooked smile, but she didn’t buy it. Her expression remained neutral, remote.
“And that’s why you decided to drive a … a taxicab?”
“I had to eat.”
“With your background, you could have found something in the computer field. Even if it was just data processing. You could have found something.” She shook her head decisively. “Hell, Marty, you could have worked here. With our computers. I needed you.”
“You’re accusing me of disloyalty?” It was like being told the sky was green. “In case you’ve forgotten, Joanna, I was the one who kept your ass out of jail.”
“I know that, Marty, but …”
“Then act like it.”
“… but it’s not that simple.”
“The Attorney General thought it was that simple. He was ready to cut me loose altogether.” Blake was near to losing it. He sat back in the chair, crossed his legs, took a deep breath. “I know you would have given me some kind of a job, if I’d asked for it, but they play a lot of funny games back in that computer room. You bill your clients for those games, remember? As for me, with the AG looking over my shoulder, I figured it was best to stay away. Give the powers-that-be a chance to forget Marty Blake.”
“But, a taxicab?” Her fingers went to the pearls around her throat, caressed them for a moment. “You could have done better.”
“Did it offend you?” Maybe she was pissed because he hadn’t maintained the corporate image demanded of Manhattan Executive investigators. Maybe she was just running from the fact that her father had spent all forty years of his working life in the Fulton Fish Market.
“You could have done better,” she repeated.
“Hey, we’re in the middle of a recession. I paid the rent and
“Marty, it’s good to see you again.”
The smile seemed genuine enough, but then, everything about Joanna Bardo seemed genuine, from the gathered drapes framing the windows, to the Chippendale chairs in front of her desk, to her double-breasted Karl Lagerfeld business suit, to the pearl choker encircling her throat. Everything seemed genuine, but Blake knew that half the “antiques” were actually stressed reproductions. That Joanna’s suit, shoes, and jewelry came from a garment-center loan shark whose corporate offices were regularly swept for bugs and taps by Manhattan Executive technicians.
“It’s nice to be home.” If Joanna wanted to be rid of him, Blake was determined to make it as hard as possible.
“Sit down, Marty. Have a cup of coffee.”
As if by magic, Cynthia Barret, bearing Manhattan Exec’s top-of-the-line coffee service, appeared in the doorway.
“That’s bad,” Blake said, as soon as they were alone. He pointed to the tray, then sat down.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m not a CEO. Because I’m not even a senior vice president. Because you didn’t offer me a mug and let me fill it myself.”
Blake watched Joanna compose her features. She hadn’t changed much. The same slightly protruding Mediterranean eyes, with their dark, arching brows, dominated a straight nose, cupid’s-bow mouth, and small, sharp chin. Set in a narrow frame, her doe-eyed, vulnerable face appeared soft and weak. Which was a big joke to Blake, who knew that carefully maintained expression masked a sharp, straight-for-the-jugular intelligence. He’d seen Joanna in defense of her realm, her queendom, her subjects. Seen times when she showed all the vulnerability of a cornered wolverine.
“When you haven’t been somewhere for more than a year, you become a special visitor.”
Blake shrugged, stalled for time. Wondering if she’d been hurt by his neglect. If he was dealing with nothing worse than a bruised ego.
“The thing of it is, Joanna, I came within a yard of going to jail for ten years, within an inch of losing my license forever. So, I decided to do a Caesar’s wife bit. You know—above suspicion.” He gave her the crooked smile, but she didn’t buy it. Her expression remained neutral, remote.
“And that’s why you decided to drive a … a taxicab?”
“I had to eat.”
“With your background, you could have found something in the computer field. Even if it was just data processing. You could have found something.” She shook her head decisively. “Hell, Marty, you could have worked here. With our computers. I needed you.”
“You’re accusing me of disloyalty?” It was like being told the sky was green. “In case you’ve forgotten, Joanna, I was the one who kept your ass out of jail.”
“I know that, Marty, but …”
“Then act like it.”
“… but it’s not that simple.”
“The Attorney General thought it was that simple. He was ready to cut me loose altogether.” Blake was near to losing it. He sat back in the chair, crossed his legs, took a deep breath. “I know you would have given me some kind of a job, if I’d asked for it, but they play a lot of funny games back in that computer room. You bill your clients for those games, remember? As for me, with the AG looking over my shoulder, I figured it was best to stay away. Give the powers-that-be a chance to forget Marty Blake.”
“But, a taxicab?” Her fingers went to the pearls around her throat, caressed them for a moment. “You could have done better.”
“Did it offend you?” Maybe she was pissed because he hadn’t maintained the corporate image demanded of Manhattan Executive investigators. Maybe she was just running from the fact that her father had spent all forty years of his working life in the Fulton Fish Market.
“You could have done better,” she repeated.
“Hey, we’re in the middle of a recession. I paid the rent and
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