Free One Dangerous Lady by Jane Stanton Hitchcock Page A

it’s my roof.” There was a pause. Max looked around the room, then said, “Pity about Russell Cole. I wonder if he’ll turn up.”
    â€œSo you know ,” I said, marveling at his coolness. “How did you find out?”
    â€œLulu called me this afternoon, actually.”
    Lulu—with whom he wasn’t involved.
    â€œThe whole town seems to know. Larry Locket called us this afternoon. I wonder if Lulu told him.”
    â€œLarry Locket, the writer . . .” Max shrugged. “Possibly.”
    â€œWell, June Kahn knows, which is like posting it on the Internet.”
    â€œJune Kahn, yes. And her husband—that funny little man who always wears the matching cummerbunds and ties . . . what’s his name?”
    â€œCharlie.”
    â€œCharlie Kahn. That’s right. I’ve met them. They came to my house one year for the ball.”
    â€œHow do you think Lulu found out?” I asked him.
    â€œNo idea. But I suspect she keeps rather close tabs on the two of them—Russell and Carla. She’s a bit obsessed with her successor, you know. . . . Tell me, what do people in New York think of Carla Cole?”
    â€œShe’s not around New York much,” I demurred.
    â€œNo, but you know what I mean. What’s the scoop on her, as you say? I’m curious because Lulu goes on and on about how Carla Cole used to be some sort of lady of the night. Do we think that’s true?”
    â€œWell, I’ve heard that, yes. I mean, it was a huge scandal when they ran off together.”
    â€œI remember. I didn’t know them at the time, but I heard all about it. Of course, most people in Europe thought that Russell was rather foolish to run off and get divorced the way he did. Particularly with a woman who wasn’t anybody, what? English and European men simply don’t get divorced. They get mistresses, ’Cept me, of course. But I’m considered a bit bonkers,” he said with a laugh. “I just don’t see why one shouldn’t move on if one feels like it. You know what Louis the Fifteenth said when he was asked what the greatest aphrodisiac in the world was . . . ?”
    I did know, but I pretended not to. “No, what?”
    â€œChange,” Max said with a grin. I smiled appreciatively. “I think people should do exactly as they please in life, don’t you? Provided they can, of course,” he quickly added.
    â€œI guess that depends on what pleases them,” I answered.
    â€œWell, what would please me is to call you when I come to New York. May I?”
    â€œYes. You may indeed.”
    I had no idea what to make of Max. His antithetical combination of aloofness and flirtatiousness was slightly disconcerting. I didn’t know whether he liked me or—more to the point—whether I liked him. But there was something very intriguing about him, and I definitely wanted to see him again.
    For the rest of the dinner, we talked more about Russell, speculating on what might have happened. Max said he hardly knew Russell at all. He just knew Lulu. I got the feeling that he and Lulu might once have been involved, but that they weren’t now. Several times during our conversation, I glanced over at Carla. Every single time I looked at her, she was already looking at me, staring at me with a knowing little smile. I couldn’t figure out if she was smiling because of what she’d told me about Russell, or because of some other reason. Her observation earlier that we were “sisters under the skin” echoed in my brain. It was almost as if she knew something confidential about me.
    Suddenly, a woman from another table got up and approached a man at the opposite side of our table. She leaned down and whispered something into his ear. The man’s face registered shock and he immediately craned his neck to peer around one of the orchid-plastered columns. The object of his gaze