The Blackstone Chronicles - By John Saul Page 0,52
bellowed, slamming his fist down on the table so hard his wineglass fell over. A dark stain spread like blood from a wound. “There won’t be a wedding, Celeste! Not to that bastard Andrew Sterling, anyway. And as of tomorrow morning, he’ll be out of the Bank. Do you understand? How dare he think he can take over my own Bank! And how dare you even think of marrying him! Don’t you understand? He wants everything I have. My Bank, my wife, my daughter— everything! Well, he won’t get it! None of it! None of it, goddamn it!”
Bursting into tears, Celeste fled from the table. Madeline rose as if to follow her daughter, but as she heard Celeste’s feet pounding up the stairs, she turned back to face her husband, her own eyes now almost as angry as his. “Have you gone out of your mind, Jules?” she demanded. “I called Dr. Margolis earlier, and I’m going to call him again in the morning. In the meantime, I suggest—”
“You’ll suggest nothing!” Jules stood, plunging his right hand deep into the pocket of his pants. “What are you planning to do, put me in the Asylum? Well, you won’t get away with it, Madeline! When I tell people what you’ve been up to—you and Andrew, and Celeste too—you’ll all be in jail! Or have you got everyone else in the plot too?” His eyes narrowed to tiny, suspicious slits. “You’d better tell me what you’re planning, Madeline. I’ll find out, you know. One way or another, I’ll find out everything.”
He edged toward her, but Madeline turned and strode from the breakfast room. By the time he’d moved through the dining room and the small parlor, she had reached the foot of the broad staircase.
“I’m going upstairs, Jules,” she told him, her eyes fixed steadily on him, her voice calm. “I’m not having an affair with anyone, and I’m not out to ruin your life, and neither are Celeste and Andrew. We all love you, and we all want to help you.” She paused, then spoke again, using the soothing tones that had always calmed Celeste when she was a child. “It’s going to be all right, Jules. Whatever is wrong, I’m going to fix. Right now, I’m going to go up and take care of our daughter. Then, in a few minutes, I’ll be back downstairs, and you and I can figure it all out.” When he made no reply, she turned and hurried up the stairs.
Jules, clutching the locket tightly in his right hand, watched her disappear onto the second floor. Take care of Celeste, indeed! He could almost hear them, whispering together in Celeste’s room, scheming against him.
Scheming what?
Would Madeline really call Margolis and have him locked away in the Asylum?
Of course she would! She’d do anything to get rid of him, so she and Andrew could take over the Bank.
And Celeste was part of it too, of course!
How stupid he’d been not to have seen it coming months ago! But of course that had been the genius of their plot—Celeste would pretend to be in love with Andrew so he’d never suspect what Andrew and Madeline were up to! But he’d figured it out in time.
And he’d stop it too.
He was at the foot of the stairs; suddenly, one of the lights on the telephone went on.
They were trying to call someone! One of their coconspirators, no doubt!
He started up the stairs, intent on stopping them, then realized they’d have locked Celeste’s door against him.
The phones!
He could tear out the phones!
Instead of going up, he dashed back through the dining room and into the kitchen, then down the back stairs to the basement. Groping in the dark, he found the light switch. The bright glare of a naked bulb pierced the darkness around him.
The laundry room.
That’s where the main electrical box was, and he was almost sure that’s where they’d put the box for the new phone system he’d had installed last year.
He darted into the laundry room, felt for the light switch, and a moment later found the telephone’s control box right where he remembered it.
Dozens of wires sprouted from the connector boards that were mounted on the wall next to the controller, and Jules, after staring at them for a split second, began indiscriminately jerking them loose.
Through nothing more than pure chance, the very first wires he tore free from the boards were the lines coming in from the outside. Though he kept tearing at the