The Melody Lingers On Read Free

Every nickel they ever spend for the rest of their lives will
be watched like a hawk by the government.”
    Lane did not answer. The traffic on the Merritt Parkway was getting heavier. She wanted Glady to think that she was concentrating on it.
    She knew that Glady had been too busy saying good-bye to Anne Bennett to notice that Eric Bennett had asked her to have dinner with him.

3

    T he day after their visit to the Bennett mansion, Glady unveiled her decisions in her usual modus operandi. After making her regal pronouncements
about the selection of the furniture to take from the Bennett mansion, Glady left the everyday details for Lane to follow up on.
    “We’ve seen the virtual inside of the town house in New Jersey,” she said crisply, “but I want you to go over there and get the feel of the place. As I’ve told you,
when I finished the decorating ten years ago, Anne Bennett said that her staff den was the most inviting room in the whole house. So placing that furniture into the den there will be comforting to
her. I’ve picked paint chips for all the rooms, but let me know if you think the colors work. We may have to do some mixing to get the shade I want.”
    Amused, Lane thought that while Glady had been willing to make one trip to the Bennett mansion, she was not about to spend any more of her pricey time on this project, especially when she was
doing it on the house.
    She also realized that working on the details of this project was going to be intensely interesting for her. Like everyone else, she had read every word in the media about Parker Bennett,
starting with the headline that announced that five billion dollars had vanished from the assets of the revered Bennett Investment Fund. In addition to his wealthy clients, he had targeted
investors who were mainly middle-class, hardworking small business people. That made the crime even more despicable. Elderly clients had been forced to sell their homes or retirement condos. Others
whose income from the fund had been their only asset had no choice but to move back in with their children, where resentment of each other had fostered breaks in formerly tightly knit families.
Four suicides had been linked to the financial disaster.
    “What are you waiting for?” Glady demanded. “I need you to be back here by twelve o’clock. Countess Sylvie de la Marco called me last night. She used to be Sallie Chico
from Staten Island before she befuddled that poor old count into marrying her. He died about three years ago. I guess the mourning period is over if there ever was one. Now she wants to completely
redecorate her apartment. We’re due over there at twelve-thirty. It will be a long session. I’ll try to steer her away from what is her version of good taste. She reminded me that she
will have had an early lunch, meaning she doesn’t have any intention of feeding us. So on your way back, pick up a hamburger at the drive-through at a McDonald’s and eat in the
car.”
    Glady looked down at the paperwork on her desk. Lane knew that was the sign that she was supposed to be on her way to New Jersey. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars, she thought
as she left Glady’s private office, remembering the instructions from her favorite childhood game, Monopoly. With rapid steps she walked through the still-darkened reception area and out into
the hallway. She was the only one on the elevator to the lobby but when she got off it, the ground floor was filled with people on their way to work.
    The receptionist at their office, Vivian Hall, was the first person on line for the elevator. Sixty-two years old, she had worked for Glady for ten years, a record for any of the employees.
Perpetually planning to lose weight, she was a well-proportioned size fourteen with a cap of light brown hair.
    She stepped aside to talk to Lane. “How’s the dragon lady?” she asked.
    “In typical form.” Lane smiled. “I’m heading to New Jersey to look at