Matters Of The Heart Part 10

"I can't believe you're asking me for five million dollars in an account for you," Hope said, feigning a calm she didn't feel.

"I told you, four would be fine," he said through clenched teeth.

"I know you're having money troubles, but I'm not going to do that, Finn." She was offended that he had asked her, and even more so that he was insisting. "And when we get married, we'll have to have a prenup." She had mentioned it to her attorneys in New York several months before. They had already done a rough draft. It was relatively simple and said that what was Finn's was his, and what was hers was hers. For obvious reasons, she didn't want to commingle funds with him. Paul had given her that money, and she was keeping good track of it.

"I had no idea you were cheap," he said bluntly, as he took another sharp turn in the road. It was an incredible thing for him to say to her, given what she had done for him with the house. He seemed to have forgotten very quickly her generosity with him. And she wasn't cheap, she was smart. Especially given his newly discovered talent for telling lies. She was not about to turn her fortune over to him, or even a portion of it. Five million dollars was ten percent of what Paul had given her after twenty years.

They drove the rest of the way home in stony silence, and when he came to a sharp stop in front, she got out and walked into the house. She was extremely upset by his request, and he was even more so about her refusal. He walked straight into the pantry and poured himself a stiff drink, and she could already see the effect of it when he came upstairs to their room. She suspected he might even have had a second one by then.

"So what would you think is reasonable?" he asked her as he sat down, and she looked at him with a pained expression. Things were going from bad to worse. First his obsession with her getting pregnant, then the lying, and now he wanted a huge amount of money from her. Day by day he was turning into a different man, and then out of nowhere she'd get a glimpse of the old one, who had been so wonderful to her, and just as quickly he'd disappear again. There was something very surreal and schizophrenic about it, and she remembered his brother referring to him as a sociopath in the investigator's report. She wondered now if maybe he was. She also recalled reading an article about something called "intermittent reinforcement," where people were alternately abusive and loving, and their victims were so confused, they became more determined than ever to work things out. She felt like that now. Her head was spinning. His manipulations were a powerful magnetic force. It was almost as though his mask was slipping more and more and what she was seeing behind it was scaring her to death. She still believed that the good Finn was in there somewhere. But which one was real? The old one or the new one, or both?

"I'm not going to give you any money, Finn," she said calmly, and then she saw that he had brought the bottle of scotch upstairs with him and poured himself another drink.

"You don't think you can get away with that, do you?" he asked, turning nasty. "You're sitting on fifty million bucks from your ex-husband, and I'm supposed to hang around, waiting for small change." She had thought he was making a decent living, which would have solved the problem, but even if he wasn't, she wasn't about to start pouring millions of dollars into his accounts. It wasn't right, and she didn't want to buy a man. She realized too that he had complained about his expenses, sending Michael to college, and she wondered now if he paid for anything for his son, or if Michael's grandparents were paying all his bills, and Finn was paying nothing.

"I'm not trying to get away with anything. I don't want to buy a husband, or confuse things between us. I think what you're asking for is unreasonable, and I'm not going to do it."

"Then maybe you should marry Winfred instead. Maybe what you want is a servant and not a husband. If you're only going to put a few thousand in an account and keep the rest yourself, then you should marry him."

"I'm going to bed," Hope said, looking unhappy. "I'm not going to discuss this with you anymore."

"Did you actually expect to marry me, and not level the playing field a little? What kind of marriage is that?"

"A marriage based on love, not money. And honesty, not lies. Whatever happens after that is a matter of good fortune. But I'm not going to make a deal with you, or have you dictate to me to put five million dollars, or even four, in your petty cash account. That's disgusting, Finn."

"Your sitting on fifty million bucks of your ex-husband's money and keeping it to yourself sounds pretty disgusting to me too. And f.u.c.king selfish, if you ask me." It was the first time he had ever said anything even remotely like that to her, and she was shocked beyond belief. And she hadn't appreciated the comment about marrying Winfred either, if she didn't want to pay up. Finn was being rude, and mean. And tipping his hand in a frightening way.

Hope didn't say another word to him. She turned around and walked into their bedroom and went to bed. She didn't hear him come in that night. She had lain there for a long time before she fell asleep, wondering what was happening to her and what Finn was doing or turning into, right before her eyes. But whatever it was, it wasn't good. In fact, things seemed to be falling apart at a rapid rate and getting worse day by day. It was getting harder and harder to believe that things would work out. She felt as though her heart were breaking as she went to sleep.

Chapter 17.

From the day Finn first asked her for money, things went steadily downhill. The tension between them was unbearable, the arguments were constant, his drinking increased noticeably, and the conversation was always the same. He wanted four or five million dollars from her, no questions asked, in cash. And now he was demanding more when they got married. He asked her to go to the fertility doctor too, and this time she flatly refused.

The only thing that was keeping her there was the tender memory of how loving he had been with her before. It was almost as though he had temporarily lost his mind, or was having a nightmare, and she was waiting for him to wake up and become himself again. But so far he hadn't. He just kept getting worse, while she clung to the belief that he would once again become the man she'd fallen in love with. And on some days, she wondered if that man, of the first eleven months, was even real. By Thanksgiving, she was beginning to wonder if he ever had been. Maybe the man she had known and loved was an act Finn had put on to suck her in, and this one was the real one. She no longer had any idea what to think. She felt off balance and confused, and she was miserable all the time. It had been going on for weeks.

On Thanksgiving she made a traditional turkey dinner for them, which was ruined when he started to argue with her halfway through the meal. It was the same horrifying conversation about the money he wanted, and why he felt she should give it to him. She finally got up and left the table without finis.h.i.+ng her dinner. Listening to him wheedle, rage, and insult her made her feel sick.

As she lay in bed that night, thinking that maybe she should pack her bags and fly home, Finn suddenly turned to her and became loving again. He didn't mention the money, thanked her for a beautiful dinner, and told her how much he loved her, and was so tender with her and kind to her that she actually made love with him, which they hadn't done in days. And afterward, she felt psychotic, no longer knowing what to believe or what was real.

He woke her in the middle of the night, and started arguing with her again, on the same agonizing subject, until she finally fell asleep. She woke up in the morning and he served her breakfast in bed, and was his old attentive, good-humored, loving self. She felt as though she were losing her mind, or he was. But one of them was crazy, and she was no longer sure who. She was most afraid that it was her, and when she said something about his waking her during the night to argue with her, he insisted that he hadn't, and she felt crazier than ever and wondered if she had dreamed it. She needed to talk to someone, to try and make sense of it, but there was no one to talk to. She had no friends in Ireland, and she didn't want to call Mark and worry him. And she didn't want to call the lawyer he had recommended whom she didn't know. Paul was too sick to talk to. The only person she could talk to was Finn, and he had started telling her that she was acting crazy. She really thought and was afraid that she might be going insane.

The only thing that saved her was that on the Monday after Thanksgiving, Paul's doctor called her. Paul had developed pneumonia, and they were afraid that he might be coming close to the end, and if Hope wanted to see him, she needed to come to Boston as soon as she could. Without saying a word to Finn after the call, she packed a bag, and was ready to leave by the time he came home from the village with a bag of things from the hardware store, and some laundry soap Katherine had asked him to pick up. And he had bought a big bouquet of flowers for Hope, which touched her when she saw them, but only confused her more.

He was startled when he saw her, already dressed to travel, and zipping closed her bag.

"Where are you going?" He looked panicked, and she told him about Paul. Hope looked upset about it, and he put his arms around her and asked if she wanted him to come. She didn't, but she didn't want to insult him by saying no.

"I'll be fine. I think it's better if I go alone," she said sadly. "I think this might be the end." The doctor had said as much to her on the phone. They had expected it for years, but it was hard to face now anyway. But the last thing she wanted was for Finn to come with her. She needed to get away from him and try to figure out what was happening to her, and who he was. She was no longer sure. Finn was either accusing her of something now, or adoring her, kissing her in their bed at night, or demanding money, waking her out of a sound sleep to argue with her, and then insisting she had woken him while she staggered around in exhaustion the next day. She wasn't sure, but she thought he was playing mind games with her, and some of it was working, because she felt totally confused. And Finn looked fine and undisturbed.

He drove her to the airport, and she kissed him and ran for the plane. And as she took her seat in first cla.s.s, all she felt was relief to be away from him, and burst into tears. She slept for the entire flight, and woke up in a daze as they landed at Logan Airport in Boston. She felt as though her life with Finn had become totally surreal.

Paul's doctor was waiting for her when she got to the hospital. She had called him on her way in from the airport. And she was shocked when he took her to see Paul. In the short time since she had seen him, he had wasted away. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks were hollow. He had an oxygen mask on, and she wasn't sure if he recognized her at first, and then he nodded, and closed his eyes peacefully, as though he was relieved that she had come.

She sat with him for the next two days. She never left him. She called Finn once, but explained that she couldn't speak to him from Paul's room, and he said he understood and was very sweet to her, which seemed strange to her again. He was mean to her so often now, and then loving at other times. She almost hated talking to him, because she never knew which one he'd be. And afterward he'd blame her for starting a fight, when she was certain it was him.

She called Mark and let him know she was in Boston. She promised to keep him posted, and then finally on the third day Hope was there, Paul quietly slipped away, and as he did, with tears rolling down her cheeks, Hope whispered to him that she loved him, and asked him to take care of Mimi, and then he was gone. She stood next to him for a long time, holding his hand, and then she quietly left the room, heartbroken that he was gone.

Paul had left explicit instructions. He wanted to be cremated and buried with their daughter in New Hamps.h.i.+re, where Hope's parents were as well. It was all over in two days, and seeing him put to rest next to Mimi had an overwhelming finality for Hope. She had never felt so alone in her life. She had no one left now, except Finn. He had been wonderful to her on the phone, ever since Paul died. But now, whenever Finn was nice to her, she wondered how long it would last. He was a different man.

She drove back to Boston from New Hamps.h.i.+re in a rented car, and then flew to New York, and went to her apartment. She felt as though the world had ended, and she sat there alone for days, calling no one, going nowhere. She hardly ate. She just wanted to think about what had happened, and all Paul had meant to her. It was hard to believe that he was gone.

She met with Paul's lawyers. His boat was being put up for sale. Everything was in order. There was nothing for her to do. And afterward, she went to see Mark at his office. She looked drained.

"I'm so sorry, Hope." He knew how hard this was for her. Paul had been all she had left in the world. His secretary poured her a cup of tea, and they sat and talked for a while. "How are things going in Ireland?" At first, she didn't answer and then she looked at him strangely.

"To be honest, I don't know. I'm confused. Sometimes he's wonderful to me, and then he's awful, and then he's loving to me again. He says I'm going crazy, and I'm not sure if I am or he is. He wakes me up at night and argues with me, and then the next day he tells me that's not what happened. I don't know," she said with tears in her eyes. "I don't know what's going on. He was the best thing that ever happened to me, and now I feel like I'm living in a nightmare, and I'm not even sure whose nightmare it is, his or mine." What she described sounded terrifying to Mark, and he was deeply worried about her.

"I think this guy's a lunatic, Hope. I'm really beginning to think so. I think his brother was right and he's a sociopath. I think you have to get out of there, or maybe not even go back."

"I don't know. I need to think about it while I'm here. When he's nice to me, I feel stupid for being upset about it. And then he starts all over again, and I feel panicked. He's been asking for money." Hearing that upset Mark even more.

"How much money?"

"He wants five million in his own account, as spending money." Mark looked furious at that.

"He's not crazy. He's a s.h.i.+t. He's after your money, Hope." Mark was sure of that now.

"I think he's after my mind," she said softly. "I feel like he's driving me insane."

"That's probably what he wants you to think. I don't think you should go back there again. And if you do, I want you to call that lawyer in Dublin first, so you have someone to rely on close at hand."

"I will," she promised, "but I'm going to stay here for a few days." She was still too upset about Paul to want to go back. And she felt better now in New York. Every day her mind got clearer, and the confusion Finn was spinning around her had less effect. He was calling her often, but a lot of the time, she wasn't answering the phone. And then afterward he'd ask her where she'd been and with whom. She usually told him she'd been asleep. Sometimes she just left her cell phone in the apartment and went out.

Mark called her two days later and sounded grim. This time, he offered to come to the apartment to see her. She invited him to come down, and he showed up half an hour later with his briefcase. The investigator had just delivered his final report, and Mark had brought it to her. Mark handed it to her without a word, and waited while she read it. The report was long and detailed, and Hope was shocked by almost everything she read. Most of it was different from what she had heard from Finn. Some he had never mentioned at all.

The report started where the last one had left off, after his childhood and youth, early jobs, and went on to tell about his marriage to Michael's mother. It said she was a model, with some moderate success, and had married Finn when she was twenty-one and he was twenty. It said that the couple had had a reputation for a heavy party life, with both drugs and drinking, that she had gotten pregnant, and they married five months before Michael was born. The report said that they had been separated several times, both had committed infidelities, but had gone back together, and that they had gotten into a severe accident on the highway, coming back from a party late one night on Long Island. Finn had been drinking heavily that night, and was at the wheel. Their car was. .h.i.t by a truck at an intersection on the highway. It had been totaled, and his wife had been severely injured. The driver of the truck was killed. There had been no witnesses on the scene, and eventually a car driving by had called the state police from a pay phone just down the road, and asked for emergency a.s.sistance. When the highway patrol arrived, they had found Finn conscious and uninjured, inebriated but not extremely, and he had been unable to explain why he had not gone to the pay phone to call for help himself. To do him justice, the report said he was in shock and disoriented after a blow to the head, and he had said he hadn't wanted to leave his injured wife to walk down the road to the phone. The accident had occurred half an hour before the other car drove by, and medical examiners had concluded that if help had been called sooner, Finn's pa.s.senger, his wife, would have lived. He had made no effort whatsoever to save her life.

Investigations afterward had determined that their marriage was in trouble, and Finn had asked her for a divorce, which she had refused. There was some question as to whether he had caused the accident, but whether he had or not, he had let her die. Charges had been formally brought against Finn, he was given a five-year suspended sentence and five years probation and had his license revoked for manslaughter for the death of the truck driver. His late wife's death was deemed an accident.

The investigator had contacted the family of Finn's late wife, in California, who were still bitter about it and said that they believed Finn had intentionally killed their daughter, in the hope of inheriting some money. Her father was a wealthy stockbroker in San Francisco, and he and his wife had brought up their daughter's child, who was seven at the time of his mother's death. They said that Finn had flatly refused custody of the child. They had told the investigator that Finn had seen his son twice in the ensuing years before he left for college, and they believed he had seen him a few times since, but had no real role in their grandson's life. They considered him a poor influence on the boy and a dangerous man. He had attempted to extort money from them after their daughter's death, threatening to expose her use of alcohol and drugs and immoral, promiscuous lifestyle. They had reported his extortion attempts to the police, but never brought formal charges against him. They just wanted him out of their and their grandson's life.

They were aware of his literary success in the years since their daughter's death, but nonetheless considered him responsible for her death, and said he was a man without a conscience, who was after money and cared for no one but himself. They said he had claimed to love their daughter in the beginning, and was charming. And he had cried copiously at her funeral. A doctor's report attached said that in his opinion, she would have died anyway, with or without help. Her injuries were too extreme, and she was brain dead.

It was chilling to read the report, and Hope looked up at Mark without comment. His wife's death had in fact been an accident. But he had done nothing to help her. There were several more pages about women he had gone out with. There was also a separate sheet that doc.u.mented that he had eventually gone after his wife's estate, and sued her parents for support, although they were supporting his child. All his efforts to get money from them, legal and otherwise, for himself had failed. It was certainly wrong of him, but it didn't make him a murderer either. Just a crook or a man desperate for money. He had also attempted to invade monies that had gone to the boy directly from his mother, and her parents were able to stop Finn's attempts to get money from his son as well. Hope couldn't help wondering if Michael knew about that. He knew his father was a liar. But Finn was infinitely worse. He was totally amoral.

Among the women Finn had gone out with were several wealthy women, some of whom he had lived with for a short time, and it was generally believed that they had given him money and gifts. His finances had always been shaky throughout the years, despite his literary success, and his appet.i.te for money was apparently voracious. There was an additional page about his publisher's current lawsuit against him, and a list of other lawsuits that had been filed against him, usually without success. There was one in particular, by a woman he had lived with, who had brought charges of mental cruelty, but she had lost the suit. All together it painted a picture of a man who exploited women, and all the subjects interviewed said he was a pathological liar. Two of them said he was a sociopath, and an unnamed source at his publisher said they considered him unreliable, untrustworthy, unethical, and incapable of following rules of any kind. All of the subjects, including his ex-parents-in-law, said he was charming, but many considered him an unscrupulous, dangerous man, entirely motivated by greed, and who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. There were no kind words about him in the report, except that he was charming, and was always loving and kind in the beginning, and heartless and cruel in the end. It was what Hope was discovering as well and hoped wasn't true. The report made it hard to deny.

Hope sat back on the couch and looked at Mark after she read it. And added to it, but not in the report, was the girl who Finn had told her himself had committed suicide because of him. So indirectly, he had caused two deaths. And Hope suddenly remembered his question to her when she had found the photograph of Audra, when he asked her if she would ever commit suicide herself, almost as though it would have been a compliment to him. The question had a whole new meaning now. She was surprised to find that she was shaking as she thought about it all and tried to absorb what she'd just read. It was horrifying to think that all those frightening stories and details of his life had slipped through the cracks over the years and become obscured. The investigator had worked hard to unearth them.

"Not pretty, is it?" Mark commented, looking worried.

"No, it isn't," she said sadly. He was charming, as they said, and extremely loving in the beginning, but almost every one of them considered him a dangerous man. "Now what do I do?" she said almost to herself, staring out the window into s.p.a.ce, thinking about Finn, wanting with all her heart for him to be who he had been at first.

"I don't think you should go back," Mark said wisely, and she thought about it for a long moment, and how confused she had been when she left. She wondered if he was trying to drive her to suicide, but he wanted the five million dollars first. And if she married him, he would have more. If he had a child with her, he could pump her estate forever, and the child, or her.

"I think I need to go back and sort it out. In my own head at least." He was two people. The one she had fallen in love with and the one in the report. She couldn't help wondering if his late wife's parents blamed him because they couldn't accept their daughter's death, and it was easier to blame him. She wanted to believe that, and was wrestling with herself. She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but it was hard to do in light of the report. "We were supposed to get married and for my own sake, I need to find out what is real."

"What if he kills you?" Mark said tersely.

"He won't. He didn't kill his wife. It was an accident. The police report, and the coroner both said so. I think what he wants is to get as much money out of me as he can." That was ugly too, and she still wanted to believe he loved her. "I'll call your lawyer in Dublin before I go back, so I have a contact person close at hand." She felt so alone in Ireland now, and could no longer trust or count on Finn. Whoever and whatever he was, there was a part of him that was evil. Strangely after what she had just read, Hope wasn't afraid of him. She knew that part of him was good too. She still believed that. She also knew she wasn't crazy but there was a possibility that Finn was. It was why he wrote the books he did, all those dark characters lived in his head, and were different sides of him, the ones that didn't show. "I'll be all right. I need to see this through and sort it out," she rea.s.sured Mark, handed him back the report, and thanked him. "I'll call you before I leave." She wanted to be alone, to mourn the man she loved, who possibly didn't exist, and never had.

The silence in her apartment was deafening after Mark left. All she could think of now were those wonderful months she had shared with Finn, how completely she had believed and loved him, how real it seemed. Tears rolled down her cheeks, knowing there was a strong possibility now that every moment of it had been a lie. It was hard to believe and harder still to accept. The dream she had lived with him may never have been more than that. A dream. And suddenly it had turned into a nightmare. She no longer had any idea who Finn was. The good man she fell in love with or the ne'er-do-well in the report? All she knew was that she needed to go back, look him in the eye, and find out.

Chapter 18.

Hope waited up until four in the morning to call him, which was nine in the morning in Dublin. She held the slip of paper with his numbers in shaking hands. A receptionist answered, put Hope on hold while she listened to music, and then pa.s.sed her on to a secretary. Hope explained that she was calling from New York, and it was too late for him to call her back, and then finally Robert Bartlett took the call. His accent was American, and he had a pleasant voice. Mark Webber had emailed him, as had the head of their New York office. Johannsen, Stern and Grodnik was an American law firm, with offices in six American cities, and foreign branches around the world. Robert Bartlett had been the managing partner of the New York office when they asked him to take over the Dublin office, because the senior partner died suddenly of cancer. He had enjoyed being in Dublin for several years and was ready to go back to New York in a few months. He was actually sorry to leave Ireland. The situation there had been perfect for him.

He didn't know the nature of the problem, but he knew who Hope was, and that she was an important client of the firm. He was well aware of the hour in New York, and although he didn't know her, he could hear a note of tension in her voice when she introduced herself.

"I know who you are, Ms. Dunne," he said rea.s.suringly as she started to explain. "How can I help you? It's very late in New York," he commented. He sounded easygoing and calm, and he had a surprisingly young voice.

"I'm in a bit of a complicated situation of a personal nature," she said slowly. She didn't even know what she wanted from him, or what she would do yet, and it was a little crazy to ask advice from a total stranger. She knew she needed help, or might, but she wasn't sure with what. He wasn't a bodyguard or a psychologist, if she needed either, and she felt a little foolish calling him. But she wanted a contact in Dublin now in case she needed help. She didn't want to go back without some kind of support available to her there. And he was all she had. "I'm not sure what kind of help I need, if any, at this point. My agent, Mark Webber, thought I should call you." And after reading the investigator's report she thought so too, in case any legal complications arose from her relations.h.i.+p with Finn. She hoped things would calm down with him, but they might not. From what she'd read, more likely not.

"Of course. Whatever I can do to help, Ms. Dunne." His voice was intelligent and kind, and he sounded patient. She felt a little silly explaining it to him, as though what she wanted was advice to the lovelorn, and maybe she did. But this wasn't just about being lovelorn, it was about a.s.sessing danger and potential risk. It all depended on who Finn really was, what she meant to him, and how desperate or dishonest he was. Money was clearly important to him. But how important? Maybe this time, for him, their love story had been for real, in spite of all the other horrors she had read in the report. Maybe he truly loved her. She wanted to believe that. But it seemed doubtful at this point, and impossible to a.s.sess.

"I feel stupid telling you this story. I think I'm in a mess," she said as she leaped in. It was four o'clock in the morning in New York, her apartment was dark, and it was the heart of the night, when everything seems worse, dangers loom, and terrors grow exponentially. In the morning, the ghosts recede again. "I've been involved with someone for the past year. He lives in Ireland, between Blessington and Russborough, and he has a house in London too. He's a well-known author, very successful, though in a professional and financial disaster at the moment. I took photographs of him in London last year, we went out afterward, and he came to see me in New York after that. To be honest, he swept me off my feet. He stayed with me for several weeks, and we've been together almost constantly ever since, staying at each other's houses, in whatever city. I have an apartment in New York and a house on Cape Cod. We've been everywhere together, though I've been mostly in Ireland lately. He has a house there that he told me he owned, and I discovered he didn't. It turned out that he was renting it." Robert Bartlett was making small acknowledging and sympathetic noises as she told the story, and he was making notes as well, to keep it all straight when they discussed it later. "I discovered that he was renting, although he said he owned it," she resumed after a pause. "He said it was his ancestral home, and he had reclaimed it two years before. That was a lie, he said he was embarra.s.sed to admit he didn't own it. Actually, there were three big lies that I discovered at about the same time, after nine months that were absolutely perfect. I'd never been happier in my life, and he was the nicest man I've ever known, but suddenly after nine months, there were these three big lies." She sounded sad as she said it.

"How did you discover them?" Bartlett interjected, intrigued by the story. She sounded like an intelligent woman, didn't sound particularly naive, and was a businesswoman, so he knew that if she'd fallen for the lies, the perpetrator was undoubtedly good, smooth, and convincing. Originally, apparently, she'd had no reason to doubt him.

"The lies just kind of popped out of nowhere. He said he was widowed, and had brought up his son alone. His son came to visit us in Ireland, and told me that he didn't grow up with his father, as Finn had told me. His name is Finn, by the way." Bartlett knew who he was on the literary scene, most people did, and he didn't comment. He was certainly an author of major fame, and of equal stature to her in her field. She hadn't picked up some homeless guy off the street. She didn't sound like the type for that. So it seemed like a fair match, on the surface, even if it wasn't, and had probably seemed that way to her too. So it made sense in the beginning. "Anyway, his son told me that he grew up with his maternal grandparents in California and hardly knew his father while growing up, and doesn't see him much now. That's not at all what his father told me. I asked him about it, and Finn said he was embarra.s.sed to admit that he hadn't brought up his son. He has never admitted that he scarcely knew him. He also told me that he and his wife weren't getting along when she died, and they probably would have divorced eventually. She died when their son was seven. But I'll tell you about that later.

"A few months before that, I had found out about the house being rented. He still claimed it was his ancestral home, which I believed, on his mother's side, which it turns out is bulls.h.i.+t. Sorry," she sounded embarra.s.sed, and he smiled.

"No problem. I've heard the word. Never used it myself, of course, but I get the drift." They both laughed, and she liked him. He sounded sympathetic and was listening closely to all she said, despite the fact that it sounded crazy, even to her. "He said he was ashamed of that too, that he was renting. And we were planning to get married by then, so I bought the house last April." She felt a little stupid admitting it to him now.

"As a gift? Did you put it in his name?" It was not a criticism or a reproach, just a question.

"A kind of future gift. It's in my name, but I was going to give it to him as a wedding present when we got married. For now, it's in my name, and I rent it to him for a nominal amount. Two hundred dollars a month, just to keep things clean. I paid a million five for it, and I've put in about the same amount in restoration, and another million in furniture and decoration." Hearing it now, it was a huge amount of money to spend on his house, although technically it was hers, but she had done it all for him. "I drew up papers after we bought it, and it's in my will. In the event of my death, if we are married, it goes to him, free and clear, or in trust to our children, if we have any."

"Does he know that?"

"I can't remember. I think I said it to him once, maybe twice. I told him I would leave it to him. I thought it was his family house then. I discovered a few weeks ago that the house has no relation to him. It was just another lie, among many. But he made a big deal about being embarra.s.sed to have me know he only rented. And I believed his story, hook, line, and sinker."

"To give the devil his due, he sounds pretty good at what he does." So far, he had played on her sympathy every time. He was smooth.

"I also told him what my ex-husband gave me in a settlement in our divorce. I didn't want to keep any secrets. Finn asked me how much, so I told him. It was fifty million dollars, with an equal amount on my ex-husband's death," she said sadly.

"Hopefully not for a long time," he said politely, and there was a pause at her end, while she caught her breath.

"He died this week. He's been very sick for eleven years. That's why he divorced me, he didn't want me to go through that, but I did anyway."

"I'm sorry. But let me get this straight. You have another fifty million coming to you now from your late husband's, sorry, ex-husband's estate. Is that right?"

"Yes." There was a soft whistle at the other end in response and she smiled. "It's a lot. He sold his shares in a company that makes high-tech surgical equipment, and did very well. So Finn knew what I had and what I had coming."

"Has he ever asked you for money?" It didn't sound like he needed to. He was doing fine anyway, since she'd bought him the house, and promised to pa.s.s it on to him, at their marriage or her death. Either way, he stood to win.

"Only recently," she answered. "He wanted five million dollars cash, no questions asked. And more when we get married. He's only asked me for that in the last month. Before that he never mentioned money. He's in financial trouble, which was the third lie that got me worried. He told me he had just signed a new contract with his publisher, for a lot of money. We celebrated it, in fact. As it turns out, he owes them two books, they broke his contract, and are suing him for close to three million dollars."

"Did he want the money to settle with them, as a loan of some kind?"

"I don't think so," she said, thinking about it. "He just wanted it outright and he wanted more than he's being sued for. Two million more. I don't know what's going to happen with the lawsuit. He's trying to stall them, but his name is mud right now in the business. And he says he has no money, not a dime. He said he didn't want to ask for an allowance. I suggested some kind of petty cash account, and I pay all the bills anyway, so he has no expenses. But he wants five million cash in his own account, with no accounting to me for it. Just a straight gift, and more when we get married."

"And when was that supposed to be?" He hoped it was no time soon from the sound of what he was hearing.

"Originally October." She didn't tell him about the baby she'd lost in June. He didn't need to know that, she didn't think it was relevant to the story, and the memory of it still pained her. "We put it off till the end of this month, on New Year's Eve, and I recently told him I wanted to wait till June. He's livid about it."

"I'll bet he is," Robert Bartlett said, sounding worried. He didn't like the story, and just as he was thinking that, it got worse. "He has a lot to gain from marrying you, Ms. Dunne. A house-several houses-money, steady income, respectability. It appears you've been extremely generous with him, and were prepared to be more so, and he has a fairly accurate idea of your financial situation, so he knows what he's gunning for."

"Please call me Hope, and yes, he does," she said quietly, sitting in the dark in her apartment, thinking about it. Finn knew exactly what she had and what he wanted. Maybe all.

"You said you pay the bills right now. Does he make any financial contribution to the household?"

"None."

"Has he ever?"

"Not really. Newspapers, the occasional trip to the hardware store. He usually charges it to me." Nice, very nice. Sweet deal for him, Bartlett thought, but didn't say it. "He was supposed to pay a token rent, but he hasn't. I set up the rent originally to save his pride." Bartlett was convinced by then that Finn had none, just greed. "He's also been very determined that we should have a baby. He was willing to undertake infertility treatments if necessary, for me of course, to make that happen. He took me to a specialist in London."

"And has that happened?" This time Bartlett sounded nervous.

"No ... well, actually, yes, but I lost it. But he's very anxious to do it again. I wanted to wait, particularly now."

"Please don't do that, Hope. If you have a child, this guy is going to have his hooks into you forever, or the kid. He knows exactly what he's doing."

"Apparently he tried to do that with his late wife's family, and their son when his wife died. I'm not sure the boy knows that. I have a feeling he doesn't."