“My wallet and my wristwatch.”
“What kind of watch was it?”
“A Piaget.”
“Was there anything distinctive about it? Did it have an inscription, for example?”
It was the watch Lara had given him. “Yes. On the back of the case, it read ‘To Philip with Love from Lara.’ ”
He made a note. “Mr. Adler…I have to ask you this. Had you ever seen this man before?”
Philip looked up at him in surprise. “Seen him before? No. Why?”
“I just wondered.” Mancini put the notebook away. “Well, we’ll see what we can do. You’re a lucky man, Mr. Adler.”
“Really?” Philip’s voice was filled with bitterness.
“Yeah. We have thousands of muggings a year in this city, and we can’t afford to spend much time on them, but our captain happens to be a fan of yours. He collects all your records. He’s going to do everything he can to catch the SOB who did this to you. We’ll send out a description of your watch to pawnshops around the country.”
“If you catch him, do you think he can give me my hand back?” Philip asked bitterly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ll be hearing from us. Have a nice day.”
Lara and Keller were waiting in the corridor for the detective.
“You said you wanted to see me?” Lara asked.
“Yes. I’d like to ask you a couple of questions,” Lieutenant Mancini said. “Mrs. Adler, does your husband have any enemies that you know of?”
Lara frowned. “Enemies? No. Why?”
“No one who might be jealous of him? Another musician maybe? Someone who wants to hurt him?”
“What are you getting at? It was a simple street mugging, wasn’t it?”
“To be perfectly frank, this doesn’t fit the pattern of an ordinary mugging. He slashed your husband’s wrist after he took his wallet and watch.”
“I don’t see what difference…”
“That was a pretty senseless thing to do, unless it was deliberate. Your husband didn’t put up any resistance. Now, a kid on dope might do a thing like that, but…” He shrugged. “I’ll be in touch.”
They watched him walk away.
“Jesus!” Keller said. “He thinks it was a setup.”
Lara had turned pale.
Keller looked at her and said slowly, “My God! One of Paul Martin’s hoods! But why would he do this?”
Lara found it difficult to speak. “He…he might have thought he was doing it for me. Philip has…has been away a lot, and Paul kept saying that it…it wasn’t right, that someone should have a talk with him. Oh, Howard!” She buried her head in his shoulder, fighting back the tears.
“That son of a bitch! I warned you to stay away from that man.”
Lara took a deep breath. “Philip is going to be all right. He has to be.”
Three days later Lara brought Philip home from the hospital. He looked pale and shaken. Marian Bell was at the door, waiting for them. She had gone to the hospital every day to see Philip and to bring him his messages. There had been an outpouring of sympathy from all around the world—cards and letters and telephone calls from distraught fans. The newspapers had played the story up, condemning the violence on the streets of New York.
Lara was in the library when the telephone rang.
“It’s for you,” Marian Bell said. “A Mr. Paul Martin.”
“I…I can’t talk to him,” Lara told her. And she stood there, fighting to keep her body from trembling.
Chapter Thirty-one
Overnight their lives together changed.
Lara said to Keller, “I’m going to be working at home from now on. Philip needs me.”
“Sure. I understand.”
The calls and get-well cards kept pouring in, and Marian Bell proved to be a blessing. She was self-effacing and never got in the way. “Don’t worry about them, Mrs. Adler. I’ll handle them, if you like.”
“Thank you, Marian.”
William Ellerbee called several times, but Philip refused to take his calls. “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” he told Lara.
Dr. Stanton had been right about the pain. It was excruciating. Philip tried to avoid taking pain pills until he could no longer stand it.
Lara was always at his side. “We’re going to get you the best doctors in the world, darling. There must be someone who can fix your hand. I heard about a doctor in Switzerland…”