"It's very important, Sam. Please. Can I come up?"
"What time is it?"
"Nine-thirty."
"Oh God!" There was a pause. "Got to be at rehearsal by eleven anyway. Come up."
Gabby dressed, left a note for Lennox, and went downstairs. On this New Year's Sunday morning The Rock was dead. She found a taxi, still littered with confetti, and was driven north to Knickerbocker Square. Cooper was dressed in slacks and jacket, waiting for her. He offered coffee which she refused and they sat down in the wing chairs in the living room eyeing each other. Gabby was frightened. Cooper looked drawn and twitchy.
"Well?" he asked.
"Do you know where Jordan keeps the photostats of those letters?"
"Why?"
"I want to compare them."
"With what?"