Alexandra was disappointed. "Can't the desk take it?"
"It's too important. I can't trust them."
"All right, then. Of course I'll stay."
George rented a car and drove to Kingston. It was late afternoon when he arrived. The streets of the capital city were swarming with colorfully dressed tourists from the cruise ships, shopping at the straw market and in small bazaars. Kingston is a city of commerce, with refineries, warehouses and fisheries, but with its landlocked harbor it is also a city of beautiful old buildings and museums and libraries.
George was interested in none of these things. He was filled with a desperate need that had been building up in him for weeks and had to be satisfied. He walked into the first bar he saw and spoke to the bartender. Five minutes later George was accompanying a fifteen-year-old black prostitute up the stairs of a cheap hotel. He was with her for two hours. When George left the room, he left alone, got into the car and drove back to Montego Bay, where Alexandra told him the urgent telephone call he was expecting had not come through.
The following morning the Kingston newspapers reported that a tourist had beaten up and mutilated a prostitute, and that she was near death.
At Hanson and Hanson, the senior partners were discussing George Mellis. There had been complaints from a number of clients about the way he handled their securities accounts. A decision had been reached to fire him. Now, however, there were second thoughts.
"He's married to one of Kate Blackwell's granddaughters," a senior partner said. "That puts things in a new light."
A second partner added, "It certainly does. If we could acquire the Blackwell account..."
The greed in the air was almost palpable. They decided George Mellis deserved another chance.
When Alexandra and George returned from their honeymoon, Kate told them, "I'd like you to move in here with me. This is an enormous house, and we wouldn't be in one another's way. You - "
George interrupted. "That's very kind of you," he said. "But I think it would be best if Alex and I had our own place."
He had no intention of living under the same roof with the old woman hovering over him, spying on his every move.
"I understand," Kate replied. "In that case, please let me buy a house for you. That will be my wedding present."
George put his arms around Kate and hugged her. "That's very generous of you." His voice was hoarse with emotion. "Alex and I accept with gratitude."
"Thank you, Gran," Alexandra said. "We'll look for a place not too far away."
"Right," George agreed. "We want to be close enough to keep an eye on you. You're a damned attractive woman, you know!"
Within a week they found a beautiful old brownstone near the park, a dozen blocks away from the Blackwell mansion. It was a charming three-story house, with a master bedroom, two guest bedrooms, servants' quarters, a huge old kitchen, a paneled dining room, an elegant living room and a library.
"You're going to have to do the decorating by yourself, darling," George told Alexandra. "I'm all tied up with clients."
The truth was that he spent almost no time at the office, and very little time with clients. His days were occupied with more interesting matters. The police were receiving a string of assault reports from male and female prostitutes and lonely women who visited singles' bars. The victims described their attacker as handsome and cultured, and coming from a foreign background, possibly Latin. Those who were willing to look at police mug shots were unable to come up with an identification.
Eve and George were having lunch in a small downtown restaurant where there was no chance of their being recognized.
"You've got to get Alex to make a new will without Kate knowing about it."
"How the hell do I do that?"
"I'm going to tell you, darling..."
The following evening George met Alexandra for dinner at Le Plaisir, one of New York's finest French restaurants. He was almost thirty minutes late.
Pierre Jourdan, the owner, escorted him to the table where Alexandra was waiting. "Forgive me, angel," George said breathlessly. "I was at my attorneys', and you know how they are. They make everything so complicated."
Alexandra asked, "Is anything wrong, George?"
"No. I just changed my will." He took her hands in his. "If anything should happen to me now, everything I have will belong to you."
"Darling, I don't want - "
"Oh, it's not much compared to the Blackwell fortune, but it would keep you very comfortably."
"Nothing's going to happen to you. Not ever."
"Of course not, Alex. But sometimes life plays funny tricks. These things aren't pleasant to face, but it's better to plan ahead and be prepared, don't you think?"
She sat there thoughtfully for a moment. "I should change my will, too, shouldn't I?"
"What for?" He sounded surprised.
"You're my husband. Everything I have is yours."
He withdrew his hand. "Alex, I don't give a damn about your money."
"I know that, George, but you're right. It is better to look ahead and be prepared." Her eyes filled with tears. "I know I'm an idiot, but I'm so happy that I can't bear to think of anything happening to either of us. I want us to go on forever."
"We will," George murmured.
"I'll talk to Brad Rogers tomorrow about changing my will."
He shrugged. "If that's what you wish, darling." Then, as an afterthought, "Come to think of it, it might be better if my lawyer made the change. He's familiar with my estate. He can coordinate everything."