While My Pretty One Sleeps by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

whatever?”
    â€œSure,” Tse-Tse agreed. “I’d love to. This is off-off-Broadway,don’t forget. No salary, just prestige. But I have to tell you, Ethel isn’t worried about the state of her kitchen cabinets.”
    â€œIf she turns up and doesn’t want to pay you, I will,” Neeve said. “I want to go with you. I know she has an appointment book in her desk. I’d just like to have some kind of idea about what plans she may have made before she disappeared.”
    They agreed to meet at eight-thirty the next morning in the lobby. At closing time, Neeve turned the lock on the Madison Avenue entrance to the store. She went back into her office for a quiet time over desk work. At seven she phoned the Cardinal’s residence on Madison Avenue and was put through to Bishop Devin Stanton.
    â€œI got your message,” he told her. “I’ll be delighted to come up to dinner tomorrow night, Neeve. Sal’s coming? Good. The Three Musketeers from the Bronx don’t get together enough these days. Haven’t seen Sal since Christmas. Has he gotten married again, by any chance?”
    Just before he said goodbye the Bishop reminded Neeve that his favorite dish was her pasta al pesto. “The only one who could make it better was your mother, God rest her,” he said gently.
    Devin Stanton did not usually refer to Renata in a casual phone call. Neeve had a sudden suspicion that he’d been chatting with Myles about Nicky Sepetti’s release. He rang off before she could pin him down about that. You’ll get your pesto, Uncle Dev, she thought—but you’ll also get a flea in your ear. I can’t have Myles hovering over me for the rest of my life.
    Just before she left, she phoned Sal’s apartment. As usual, he was in bubbling good humor. “Of course I haven’t forgottentomorrow night. What are you having? I’ll bring the wine. Your father only thinks he knows about wine.”
    Laughing with him, Neeve replaced the receiver, turned off the lights and went outside. The capricious April weather had turned cool again, but even so she felt the absolute need for a long walk. To appease Myles, she hadn’t jogged in nearly a week, and her entire body felt stiff.
    She walked rapidly from Madison to Fifth Avenue and decided to cut through the park at Seventy-ninth Street. She always tried to avoid the area behind the museum where Renata’s body had been found.
    Madison Avenue had still been busy with cars and pedestrians. On Fifth, the taxis and limousines and shiny town cars whizzed by quickly, but on the west side of the street, bordering the park, there were few people. Tossing her head as she approached Seventy-ninth Street, Neeve refused to be deterred.
    She was just turning into the park when a squad car pulled up. “Miss Kearny.” A smiling sergeant rolled down the window. “How’s the Commissioner doing?”
    She recognized the sergeant. At one point he had been Myles’s driver. She went over to chat with him.
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    A few paces behind her, Denny stopped abruptly. He was wearing a long, nondescript overcoat with the collar turned up and a stocking cap. His face was almost concealed. Even so he could feel the eyes of the cop at the passenger window of the squad car boring into him. Cops had long memories about faces, could recognize ones they knew even from glimpses of their profiles.Denny knew that. Now he resumed walking, ignoring Neeve, ignoring the cops, but he could still feel eyes following him. There was a bus stand directly ahead. As a bus pulled up, he joined the cluster of waiting people and got on it. When he paid his fare, he could feel the perspiration forming on his forehead. Another second and that cop might have recognized him.
    Sullenly Denny took a seat. This job was worth more than he was being paid. When Neeve Kearny went down, forty thousand New York cops