Vultures at Twilight by Charles Atkins Read Free Book Online Page B

other women. But right now, looking at Ada and realizing she might move away, was more than I could bear. ‘We’ll figure this out,’ I said, as much for her as for me. ‘Let me grab my coat, aside from Bradley’s issue – whatever it was – everyone raves about Nillewaug. I’m sure it’s lovely.’

FOUR
    T olliver Jacobs’ hands shook as he hung up. Philip had been missing since Friday, and now he knew why. Why he wasn’t answering his cell. Why he hadn’t called. Dead.
    As he got up to shut his office door; his knees threatened to buckle. ‘Oh God.’ The information wormed into his brain. ‘Oh God.’ He sank to his chair. How would he be able to face the others, to face the day, to face anything? He thought of their employees, most of them had been hired by Philip, what would they say? What would they think?
    Tolliver and Philip had lived with the gossip, the conversations cut short, the rolling eyes. He knew what they must be thinking, that he and Philip had a fight. But not this. He held his head in his hands. ‘Oh God.’ He pictured Philip with his perfect teeth and blue-green eyes.
    â€˜I think we may have found your partner,’ the woman detective had said. Hope had surged only to be cut off by her next statement. ‘We need you to identify the body.’
    â€˜Oh God. Oh God.’ Tolliver tried to focus. What was he supposed to do? Maybe it wasn’t Philip. But inside, he knew. Nothing short of death could account for the past five days. Not a word. After seventeen years, he and Philip had never been apart for more than a week. Since graduate school, the two men had been inseparable.
    Tolliver tried to map a course of action. He took a deep breath, and stood. Yes , just move . Then, he was through the door with what he hoped was a normal expression on his face as he passed the desks of his buyers.
    â€˜I have to take care of some errands,’ he told Gretchen, his secretary. ‘If you need me, I’ll have my cell.’
    â€˜Is everything OK?’ she asked, her dark eyes searching out his.
    â€˜No, but . . .’ He met her gaze, and then looked around at half a dozen faces, all turned toward him, wondering. ‘Never mind.’
    He pushed open the ancient iron-studded door, and stepped out into the cool October air and the crackling of fallen leaves. He walked across the beautifully landscaped grounds of Grenville Antiques, each specimen tree, each weathered marble sculpture, a tribute to Philip’s eye and unfailing taste. Keep moving , he thought as he turned the key in his 5 series BMW. The powerful engine purred. But as he rode past their red warehouse, where Philip had painted a herd of whimsical Holsteins, his resolve faltered. He skidded to a stop, their last argument, more heated than any they’d ever had, played over and over. Philip storming out, his final words: ‘I need space, Tolliver. Don’t push me on this!’
    Gasping for breath, Tolliver pulled off on to the gravel drive, and with his hands white-knuckled to the wheel, he sobbed.

FIVE
    A s Delia Preston waxed eloquent about the virtues of Nillewaug Village, I grew increasingly anxious. I couldn’t tell if it was the polished administrator’s rapid-fire presentation, her too-red Chanel knock-off suit, her perfect ash-blonde upsweep, her flawless makeup, her stagey office with floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the man-made pond and waterfall four stories below, or the hard fact that Ada was contemplating a move back to New York. I desperately wanted this to be the solution. Move Rose – possibly kicking and screaming from her fourteenth-floor rent-stabilized apartment on Rivington – to a light and lovely unit at Nillewaug. Problem was, everything that came through Delia’s lip-sticked mouth was tripping alarms, and I couldn’t tell why. Was it just that she looked like a woman trying