Free The Cooperman Variations by Howard Engel Page B

drink when Raymond wasn’t watching.
    “I don’t mind saying that I’m uneasy with even an un signed document in my safe,” Raymond said. “Having the fully executed documents will plague my sleep, Vanessa. You keep those two copies and I’ll take the other two.”
    “Why don’t you leave the original and all the copies here and I can get two of them matted and mounted for framing. I’ll send your copies over by courier. They should be ready by Monday or Tuesday. Lots of time before the reception on Wednesday.”
    “I hate to let things get away from me, Vanessa. The world around us is fragmenting in every direction. I can’t do much about that. But I can try to keep a few things in order.”
    “Don’t be a fusspot, Raymond. I won’t lose them. When did I ever let you down?”
    “Vanessa, a man isn’t safe in your hands. All right, keep three copies. I’ll take one along with me. But you keep the others under lock and key.”
    “I’ll put them in my new safe. I just got it this morning.” Vanessa shot Ted Thornhill a look that coloured the flesh over his cheekbones. He cleared his throat and didn’t meet Vanessa’s eyes.
    “I don’t blame you for worrying, Raymond. I’ll personally see to it that nothing happens to them. But remember this: it’s not every day that NTC commits so much of its resources to one big project. We’re in this together. There’ll be glory enough for all.” Raymond thought that this was the cue for an informal embrace, which caught Vanessa off guard. She entered into the momentary entanglement in a lively spirit, then extracted herself without a hair mussed.
    I missed the moment of Ted Thornhill’s departure. It must have been right after the photographer, who’d changed films at least half a dozen times. Thornhill had that rare skill of being able to retreat silently without taking away the feeling of his presence in a room. He and Raymond both made you feel as though you’d just witnessed the signing of a major peace accord.
    “Now, tell me,” Raymond said, his voice in another register, and following Vanessa to a free couch, “how are you making out since this horrible murder? Are you all right? Are the police giving you the protection you need?”
    “I’m fine, really I am. If I can only escape north again for a long weekend, I’ll be completely recovered.”
    “Oh, I don’t know about that. No, no, no. I should think that you’d be more vulnerable at the lake than here. Have they let you go back to the house yet?”
    “I don’t want to go back just yet, Raymond. I’ll go when I’m ready. It’s not for the police to decide. They’ve finished taking the place apart, I’m told. But I’m not up to putting it back together again.”
    “It’s a Humpty Dumpty situation,” I volunteered.
    “What?” said Raymond Devlin, examining my face as though it were turning purple. He seemed to be not so much at sea in Mother Goose as he was surprised that I had uttered at all. “What?” He looked at Vanessa with a quizzical expression. For a moment I thought that my remark might have made it necessary to sign the contracts all over again. But it was only my own craziness. He soon packed up his briefcase, watched over by Roger Cavanaugh, and began shaking hands with the remaining principal signers. The witnesses got a half-smile just before he turned and walked briskly to the elevator. Harry Parlow’s exit was less dramatic and took place not two minutes later. His expression showed a picture of the back room he was returning to.
    I sat there for a few minutes, watching the rooftops below me. Time and place had been distorted by this meeting. It made me jumpy. Vanessa went from her valedictory posture near the entrance directly to Sally.
    “Damn it, Sally! How was he able to get up here without my knowing it? Isn’t that why we have security? I want you to find out who’s responsible for the slip-up. I mean it. I want to see the name. Do you hear?” Sally