The Dark Glamour Read Free Page A

fingers of her left hand together surreptitiously: Gran’s silver ring never left her second finger, but she had removed her incredibly conspicuous engagement ring weeks ago. Luckily, she had also left off her plainer wedding band. “My brother,” she told the manager firmly.
    “Brother, of course! I see the resemblance, naturally. Anyway, I thought you might need a larger safe when he came in with the new item, but luckily it all fit. Many customers are, you know, very particular about keeping the same box, especially when it’s one they’ve had for a long time. And Mr. Chase is one of our very valued, long-term customers, of course, so I was pleased to be able to keep his location consistent, as I’m sure that he hopefully was as well . . .”
    Jane’s head was swimming, and she could barely read the tiny numbers on the stacked rows of boxes. She held up the key Malcolm had left inside her passport in one faintly trembling hand. He removed a matching one from his pocket, inserted it into one lock on box 41811, and nodded meaningfully toward the other one. They turned their keys in near-unison, and the box slid smoothly free of the wall. Jane carried it to a stainless-steel table in the middle of the room, while McDeary lowered his eyes discreetly to the floor.
    The box was almost completely filled by a black leather case, and Jane could feel her heart pounding in her ears as she reached for it. She fumbled with the latches, snaps, and ties— just how many ways do you need to keep a lid on —until finally, unexpectedly, the case opened.
    Money, she told herself. Of course it’s just money . There was a lot of it, in fact: certainly more than she had left in her Grand Central stash. But she couldn’t deny the shiver of excitement that ran down her spine when, looking past the neat green-and-gray stacks, she saw the corner of something . . . else. She dug eagerly through the pile of cash, carelessly moving more hundreds than she could count out of the way like empty candy wrappers. Money was welcome, but the real proof that Malcolm had been thinking of her was finally in her hands.
    “It’s a . . . checkbook,” she said out loud, flipping the faux-crocodile cover open. The checks were drawn on an account at the First Trust Bank of New York, in the name of Caroline Chase. After a quick search, Jane found a second book, with a different account number, for Malcolm Chase. He was careful, she thought sadly. He knew one of us might be caught, and kept our names separate even when we were supposed to be together.
    McDeary cleared his throat, and Jane jumped. “Sorry,” he mumbled, offering what looked an awful lot like a bow of apology. He pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “Your brother had some instructions about that.”
    My who? Jane almost asked, but bit the question back. Right. My name is Caroline. Malcolm’s name is Malcolm. My husband is my brother, because he killed my grandmother and now his mother wants to steal my as-yet-unconceived baby. It’s simple, Jane; keep up!
    McDeary was eagerly explaining a complicated-sounding system of linked accounts and automatic transfers from somewhere offshore, triggered by withdrawals from her checking account. The gist, Jane eventually understood, was that she had as much money as she wanted, replaced into her account as fast as she could spend it. No more Rivington, she thought gleefully. After a quick mental catalog, she decided that she wouldn’t have to go back even once. Everything that mattered was in her purse; everything else could be left behind. She was rich again, and money equaled freedom.
    “Thank you,” she said randomly, hoping it had come out during an appropriate pause in McDeary’s lengthy elaboration on the finer points of international banking treaties.
    “My pleasure, certainly,” he chirped, looking as though he was seriously considering another bow.
    Jane ran her hands over the leather of the case, looking futilely for a