The stairs were carpeted in a rose-patterned blue rug. My tired feet sank gratefully into the pile. Paige was waiting for me in the doorway at the top of the stairs, wearing her white terry cloth robe, her face not made up, her hair pulled back under a towel as I’d seen her after rehearsal.
“What brings you into the city, Jeannie?” she was saying as my head came in sight. The rest of her sentence died in her throat. She stood immobile with surprise for a second too long. I reached the door as she started to slam it and pushed my way inside.
“We’re going to talk, Paige. A little heart-to-heart.”
“I have nothing to say to you. Get out of here before I call the police.” Her voice came out in a harsh whisper.
“By my guest.” I sat down in a wide armchair upholstered in rust brocade and looked around the large, light room. A Persian rug covered about two thirds of the dark parquet. Gold brocade drapes were looped back from the windows overlooking Astor Street and sheer gauze hung underneath. “The police will be very interested in your role in Boom Boom’s death. Please do call them.”
“They think it’s an accident.”
“But you, dear Paige? Do you think it is?”
She turned her face away, biting her lip.
“Jeannine told me this morning your role was to keep tabs on what my cousin was up to. I thought she meant for her and Clayton. But she wasn’t talking about them, was she? No, you were keeping track of him for Grafalk.”
She didn’t say anything but kept staring at a picture on the west wall as if seeking inspiration from it. It looked like a very good copy of a Degas. For all I knew, it was an original. Even with the losses to the steamship line, Niels Grafalk could afford to give his lover that kind of trifle.
“How long have you been Grafalk’s mistress?”
Spots of color stained her cheeks. “What an offensive remark. I have nothing to say to you.”
“Then I’ll have to do the talking. You correct me where I’m wrong. Jeannine and Clayton moved to Lake Bluff five years ago. Niels knew Clayton was fiddling around with Eudora Grain invoices. He promised not to turn him in to Argus if Clayton would start giving Grafalk a preferred position on shipping orders.”
“I don’t know anything about the Grafalk Steamship Line.”
“You and your sister are so pure-minded, Paige. You don’t want to know anything about where your money comes from, just that it’s there to spend when you need it.”
“I scarcely know Niels Grafalk, Vic. I’ve met him socially at my sister’s. If Clayton and he did have some kind of business arrangement, I would be the last person to know about it.”
“Oh, bullshit, Paige. Grafalk owns this condominium.”
“How do you know that?” she demanded, sitting down suddenly on a sofa near me. “Did Jeannine tell you?”
“No, Paige. Your sister kept your secret. But property titles are a matter of public record in Chicago. I was curious about this place, since I suspect Windy City can’t afford to pay you very much. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Grafalk got Clayton to give him preferred customer treatment. In exchange, Grafalk helped pave the way for them socially when they moved back to Lake Bluff. Got them into the Maritime Club and all that good stuff.
“Well, of course, you don’t like Jeannine enjoying the good things in life alone—and vice versa. So you started hanging out with her around the Maritime Club. Now Mrs. Grafalk’s an interesting lady, but she’s going at about a hundred knots all day long with her charities and Ravinia and the Symphony Board, and Niels saw you and thought you were just about the most beautiful little thing he’d ever laid eyes on. You saw your chance to get set up in a big way, and three years ago, when Feldspar converted this building, Niels moved you in. Right so far?”
Paige spoke in a low voice. “You are totally insufferable, Vic. You have absolutely no understanding of this sort of thing, or the kind of life I lead.”
I interrupted her. “Jeannine already gave me the heartbreaking details of the Carrington family’s slide into poverty and the attendant humiliation. Take it as fact that I’m too vulgar to understand how shattering that must have been to the two of you. What I really want to know is where my cousin fitted into this. You told me a few weeks ago that you two were falling in love with each other. Did you think my cousin was a better prospect in the long run because he wasn’t married? Not as much money, but more of it might come to you?”
“Stop it, Vic, stop it. Do you think I have no feelings at all? Do you know what I went through when I learned Boom Boom was dead? I had no choice. I had no choice!” The last sentence was uttered in a rising cadence.