that I know of,” Vivian said, frowning a little. “The police aren’t very forthcoming with information, after all. But I’m sure none of us has anything to worry about and soon enough, this tragedy will be supplanted in the news with something else.”
True enough, Julia thought as her fellow residents continued to talk and wonder aloud about Marie Endicott. In a few days, the reporters would give up and go away and life would go back to the ordinary.
Well, not for her.
“I have a couple of other announcements,” Vivian proclaimed, her voice easily carrying over the rumble of mixed conversations. “I’m sorry to tell you all that Senator and Mrs. Kendrick, long-time residents of 721, have moved. I’m not sure where, but I believe they’re somewhere in the city. Their co-op is officially for sale.”
More rumbling, more conversations, and Julia slid her glance across the small crowd gathered there. Gage Lattimer sat off by himself, no surprise there. A tall, gorgeous man, he rarely attended these meetings and when he did, as now, he didn’t mingle.
Reed Wellington, Elizabeth’s husband, sat beside her, but his scowl made it clear he wasn’t happy to be there. Elizabeth, too, was holding herself stiffly, her body language declaring she’d rather be anywhere else.
Tessa was tapping the toe of her shoe against the carpet, and even Carrie, beside Julia, was beginning to fidget. Julia, though, had been trained by enough nannies to know how to sit still when you wanted to move. To know how to keep your emotions from showing on your face. To know how to bottle up everything inside, where no one could see.
“Just one more item now, if you’ll all give me your attention,” Vivian said. “I have an announcement. It’s very exciting and I’m sure you’ll all be as pleased as I was to hear.” She waited until everyone was focused on her before she gave them all a tight smile and said, “I’ve recently been informed that our home—721 Park Avenue—is up for Historical Landmark status!” She waited for a buzz of excitement that didn’t come, then frowning, said, “I think we should have a party to celebrate!”
As Vivian moved around the room, talking to people, trying to spur enthusiasm for her celebration, Julia edged her way to the door. Carrie had already beaten her to a quick exit, but Julia would be right behind her.
“Julia, dear.”
Darn it.
Stopping dead, Julia turned, a practiced smile on her face as she greeted Vivian. “Hello, Vivian. The meeting went well.”
“Yes, it did, didn’t it?” The older woman tried to smile, but her too-tight skin simply wouldn’t allow it. “Forgive me if I’m intruding, my dear, but you look troubled. Is everything all right?”
Surprised, since Vivian wasn’t exactly known for her interest in anyone besides herself, Julia took a moment or two to answer. “Thanks for asking, Vivian,” she said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel, “but I’m fine. Just tired, I think. And this sad situation with Marie Endicott has us all feeling the strain.”
“Oh, of course.” Vivian nodded and her sleek, silver bob hardly moved. “Poor woman. I can’t imagine what must have been on her mind to jump from the roof like that.”
“So you do think it was a suicide?” Julia asked.
“Surely you do, too.” Vivian looked at her for a long moment. “Why, anything else would be too distressing. Imagine. If she were pushed off the roof, one of us might have done it.”
Julia hadn’t really thought of it in those terms, but now that the seed had been planted, she shivered as she sent another glance at the people who lived in her building. Vivian was right. Julia couldn’t imagine any of them being a killer. Marie must have jumped. Which was a sad thought. How horrible to feel so alone, so miserable, that your only solution was to end your life.
“Now I’ve upset you,” Vivian said. “Not my intention at all.”
She had, but Julia didn’t want to talk about this anymore, so she smiled more brightly and said, “Not at all. But I am tired. So if you’ll excuse me…”
“Certainly,” Vivian said, already looking past Julia to someone else in the room. “You go on home now.”
Julia did just that, hurrying her steps down the hall to the elevator. When the doors opened and she stepped inside, she simply stared at the row of floor numbers. She should go home, she knew, but Amanda was out somewhere and Julia didn’t really want to sit by herself and listen to silence. So on impulse, she hit the groundfloor button and leaned back against the elevator wall as the doors swished shut and the motor engaged.
Tugging her small designer bag higher on her shoulder, Julia stepped out of the elevator at the lobby and quickly crossed the ivory marble floor. A scattering of Oriental rugs in bright colors softened the cool sterility of the marble and muted the click of her heeled sandals as she walked.
The muted blue walls of the lobby were dotted with expensive artwork and mirrors with elegantly ornate, gold-rimmed frames. The ceiling was high, and a massive crystal chandelier hung in the center of the lobby almost directly over the doorman’s wide, mahogany desk. The front doors of 721 were heavy glass framed in gleaming mahogany, allowing passersby a glimpse into the elite, elegant lifestyle of the residents at 721 Park Avenue. Julia had always felt that somehow she and the others who lived there were something like specimens in a zoo. They stayed in their gilded cage while people could stop and stare in at lifestyles so different from their own.
Lots of happy thoughts tonight, she told herself.
“Hello, Henry,” Julia said as the doorman stepped out from behind his desk to hustle to the front door. Around five-foot-seven, Henry Brown had shoulders that stooped a little, brown hair, soft brown eyes and an obsequious manner.
“Hello, Ms. Prentice. Nice to see you, as always.”
Julia waited as he opened the door for her and held it. It would have been easier to do it herself, of course, but Henry was very territorial about his duties. “Thanks, Henry.”
He was still smiling as she stepped out onto the crowded street. Summer nights in New York were hot and sticky, and tonight was no exception. Traffic hummed, car horns blasted and an angry cabbie shouted at the pedestrians ignoring the light and streaming across the street in front of him. A halfhearted wind blew down Park Avenue and carried the scent of hot dogs from the corner street vendor’s wagon.
Julia smiled, tucked her bag more tightly beneath her left arm and moved into the steady flow of foot traffic. After sitting still for so long, it felt good to be outside, part of the rush and bustle of the city. She was alone and yet part of a crowd. And there was a certain kind of comfort in that. Here, she was only another body hurrying along the sidewalk. Here, no one expected anything of her. No one was watching her. No one paid any attention to her at all, as long as she kept moving and didn’t slow down the flow.
She didn’t have far to go, just a few steps to the Park Café on the corner. Most of the residents of 721 treated the little coffee bar as if it were an extension of the apartment building.
Tonight, though, Julia was hoping she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew. She didn’t actually feel up to chitchat, but neither did she want to go back to her own apartment and be by herself. She walked into the café and was greeted by the combined scents of cinnamon, chocolate and coffee. The hiss of the espresso machine played counterpoint to the
