Master of the Game by Sidney Sheldon

 

 

Friday. 10:57 A.M.

At La Guardia Airport, a taxi pulled up in front of the Eastern Airlines shuttle terminal and Eve Blackwell got out. She handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill.

“Hey, I can’t change this, lady,” he said. “Have you got anything smaller?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll have to get change inside.”

“I haven’t time. I have to catch the next shuttle to Washington.” She looked at the Baume & Mercier watch on her wrist and made a decision. “Keep the hundred dollars,” she told the startled driver.

Eve hurried into the terminal. She half-walked and half-ran to the departure gate marked Washington Shuttle. “One round trip to Washington,” Eve said breathlessly.

The man looked at the clock above his head. “You missed this one by two minutes. It’s just taking off.”

“I’ve got to be on that plane. I’m meeting—Isn’t there anything you can do?” She was near panic.

“Take it easy, miss. There’s another shuttle leaving in an hour.”

“That’s too—Damn it!”

He watched her regain control of herself.

“Very well. I’ll wait. Is there a coffee shop around here?”

“No, ma’am. But there’s a coffee machine down the corridor.”

“Thank you.”

He looked after her and thought, What a beauty. I sure envy the guy she’s in such a hurry to meet.

 

 

Friday. 2:00 P.M.

It will be a second honeymoon, Alexandra thought. The idea excited her. Get rid of all the servants. I want it to be just the two of us, angel. We’ll have a lovely weekend. And now Alexandra was leaving the brownstone, on her way to Dark Harbor to meet George. She was running behind schedule. She had had a luncheon engagement, and it had taken longer than Alexandra had planned. She said to the maid, “I’m going now. I’ll be back Monday morning.”

As Alexandra reached the front door, the telephone rang. I’m late. Let it ring, she thought, and hurried out the door.

 

 

Friday. 7:00 P.M.

George Mellis had examined Eve’s plan over and over. There was not a single flaw in it. There will be a motor launch waiting for you at Philbrook Cove. Take it to Dark Harbor and make sure you’re not seen. Tie it to the stern of the Corsair. You’ll take Alexandra for a moonlight sail. When you’re out at sea, do whatever turns you on, George—just don’t leave any traces of blood. Dump the body overboard, get into the launch and leave the Corsair adrift. You’ll take the launch back to Philbrook Cove, then catch the Lincolnville ferry to Dark Harbor. Take a taxi to the house. Use some excuse to get the driver to go in so that you’ll both notice the Corsair is missing from the dock. When you see that Alexandra is gone, you’ll call the police. They’ll never find Alexandra’s body. The tide will wash it out to sea. Two eminent doctors will testify it was a probable suicide.

He found the motorboat moored at Philbrook Cove, waiting for him, according to plan.

George crossed the bay without running lights, using the light of the moon to steer by. He passed a number of moored boats without being detected, and arrived at the dock at the Blackwell estate. He cut the motor and made the line fast to the Corsair, the large motor sailer.

She was talking on the telephone, waiting for him in the living room when George walked in. She waved to him, covered the receiver with her hand and mouthed, “It’s Eve.” She listened a moment, then, “I have to go now, Eve. My darling just arrived. I’ll see you at lunch next week.” She replaced the receiver and hurried over to hug George. “You’re early. I’m so pleased.”

“I got lonely for you, so I just dropped everything and came.”

She kissed him. “I love you.”

“I love you, matia mou. Did you get rid of the servants?”

She smiled. “It’s just the two of us. Guess what? I made moussaka for you.”

He traced a finger lightly across the nipples straining against her silk blouse. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking about all afternoon at that dreary office? Going for a sail with you. There’s a brisk wind. Why don’t we go out for an hour or two?”