The Inheritors Read Online Free PDF

use? ‘Movies are your best entertainment.’ Well, I believe them.”
    “I hope you’re right,” he said glumly, swallowing his drink.
    “I know I’m right. Now let’s order dinner and you call your boys and tell them to meet us over at my apartment at eleven o’clock.”
    He reached for the telephone on the table. “What’s that address again? Twenty-five Central Park West?”
    “No,” I said. “Penthouse B, Waldorf Towers.”
    I almost laughed at the look of surprise on his face. “I didn’t know you moved,” he said.
    “That’s just one of the things I did this afternoon. I like to be within walking distance of the office.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    This time when I came into the lobby, they knew me. The two girls at the desk looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Gaunt,” they said, almost in chorus.
    “Good morning,” I replied.
    The guard who took me upstairs yesterday came out from behind the desk. “Good morning, Mr. Gaunt,” he said. “I have the key to your elevator. I’ll show you how it works.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Johnson,” I said.
    He smiled, pleased that I remembered his name. I followed him to the back of the corridor. There was another elevator next to the one we had used. He took the key from his pocket and placed it in a lock where the call button usually was. He turned it. The doors opened. I followed him inside.
    “All you have to do is press the Up button,” he said. “There are no stops between the lobby and your floor. You do the same in reverse when you come down.”
    I nodded, then I smiled. “No bells on this one?”
    “No, sir,” he said straight-faced. “That’s only in Mr. Sinclair’s elevator. He had it installed last year after a crank came in with a gun.”
    I waited for a moment, but he didn’t continue. I wondered what it was that Sinclair did that almost led to his getting shot. He handed me the key.
    “Your visitors will be directed to the executive reception area on the forty-seventh floor,” he said. “From there, they take another elevator that runs only between the five floors to fifty-one. That elevator is always attended, all the others in the building are self-operated. There are only three keys to this elevator, one for yourself, one for Miss Fogarty, your executive secretary, and the last one is always at Main Lobby reception.” He pressed a button and the doors opened again. “Is there anything else I can tell you?”
    “One thing,” I said. “On what floor is my office?”
    A look of faint surprise came onto his face. “Fifty, of course, sir.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Johnson,” I said and punched the Up button.
    Miss Fogarty was waiting for me as the elevator doors opened. She was in her late twenties, tall, slim, brown-eyed with darkly burnished auburn hair tied neatly with a black ribbon behind her head, a simple Dior dress in basic black with one unobtrusive gold pin on her shoulder. “Good morning, Mr. Gaunt,” she said. “I’m Sheila Fogarty, your number one.”
    I held out my hand. “Good morning, Miss Fogarty,” I said.
    Her hand was cool and slightly damp. I suddenly realized that she had to be as nervous as I was. I began to feel better. I smiled at her and she returned my smile. “Let me show you around,” she said.
    She turned and I noticed she had a good ass and that the seams of her stockings were straight on good legs and slim ankles. “The layout on this floor is exactly like Mr. Sinclair’s on the floor above. Yours is the only suite of offices.”
    I followed her down the corridor. Everything was white, highlighted only by paintings. Someone with taste had evidently gone to a great deal of expense to select them. If I wasn’t wrong there were some genuine Miros and Picassos.
    She caught my gaze. “All the paintings are from Mr. Sinclair’s private collection.” She opened the first door. “This is the projection room.”
    I glanced inside. It was neat and luxurious, holding about twenty-two people in armchair