Beth had a radiant smile on her face when she answered the doorbell. And was impeccably turned out in a coral knit top and white linen slacks. “I’m so thrilled to finally meet you,” she exclaimed warmly, taking Des by both hands. “Mitch was always like family. I hope you’ll think of us that way, too.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind. And real sorry about the gunny-sack,” Des said, meaning her uniform. “But I’m on the job tonight.”
“No apology necessary. Believe me, we’ll all sleep better when that sicko has been put away.” Now Beth gave Mitch a hug and said, “And don’t you look handsome.” He had on an untucked white button-down shirt and khaki shorts. “That shirt really sets off your tan. Or should I say sunburn?” Her brow furrowed with concern. “My goodness, you look awfully red all of a sudden.”
“From my daily run,” Mitch explained. “It was really windy out at the point.”
“Of course it was, dear. Of course.”
Beth’s apartment was huge, with high ceilings, tall windows and polished oak flooring. The decor was elegant but impersonal. No quirky little keepsakes. It had the feel of an executive rental, Mitch reflected. There was a screened-in porch off of the dining room. He heard voices out there.
It was a long, deep porch that looked out over an expanse of lawn to the Lieutenant River. Beth had furnished it with a white wicker loveseat and armchairs. A glass table was laden with chilled shrimp, deviled eggs and cheeses and crackers. There was hard liquor, wine, a washtub full of beer and soda on ice.
Kimberly and Kenny stood there together, hand in hand, glowing with so much love for each other that Mitch, who was known among his fellow New York film critics as the Town Crier, instantly felt himself welling up. Kimberly looked absolutely beautiful. Her long blond hair was brushed out. And the sleeveless print dress she had on showed off her lean, muscular arms and legs. She and Kenny were the same exact height-if you ignored that Kimberly wore flat sandals and Kenny thick-soled trail hikers. Still, Kenny was no longer a little twerp. He stood a wiry five feet ten in his Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. Was built like a marathoner. And was a good-looking guy in a neo-wonky sort of a way. His thatch of brown hair was stylishly unkempt. He had a four-day growth of beard. And the eyes behind his wire-framed glasses were bright and earnest.
He rushed toward Mitch, and pumped his hand excitedly. “God, Berger, it’s so good to see you again!”
“Same here, Lapidus.”
“And I’m ready for you this time, I swear. All set? Here goes: ‘I’ve met some hard-boiled characters in my time but you-you’re twenty minutes.’ ”
“Easy. That was Jan Sterling to Kirk Douglas in Ace in the Hole.”
Kenny’s face fell. “Damn, I still can’t beat you.”
“And you never will. Kimberly, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this doofus was your boyfriend.”
“Honestly, I had no idea you two had a history,” she confessed. “And when I found out about it, Kenny swore me to secrecy. He and Beth wanted to surprise you.”
“Which I’m happy to say we did,” said Beth, bustling in from the kitchen with a platter of piping hot cheese puffs, then bustling right back out again.
“Kimberly, you know Des, don’t you?”
“Of course. We always get seated together at the Chamber of Commerce dinners. We’re the only single women who are under forty. We even get our very own table-just us.”
“That’s because the wives make up the seating chart,” Des said, smiling at her. “Consider it a form of flattery. That’s what I do.”
“Really glad to meet you, Des,” Kenny said effusively. “I’m guessing that if you spend time with this guy you must be into old movies.”
“I’m developing a healthy appreciation-with the notable exception of the Three Stooges.”
“That’s a gender thing,” Kenny stated with great conviction. “There isn’t a woman on Earth who can tolerate the Stooges. Don’t know why.”
“I do,” Des said. “Because they’re really, really stupid.”
He frowned at her. “And this is a problem because…?”
“Oh, God, you two did grow up together.”
Kenny and Kimberly were both sipping bottles of Sam Adams. Mitch fetched himself one and a Diet Coke for Des. Also a small plate of devilled eggs, promising himself he’d be careful. He could eat his body weight in devilled eggs. As he devoured one, he noticed Kimberly studying him with a critical eye. “Uh-oh, am I hunching my shoulders? No, it’s my feet, isn’t it? They aren’t hip width apart.”
“Actually, I was just observing how tall and straight you’re standing.”
“Really?”
“You’re doing real well in class, Mitch. Besides, your mat is a judgment-free zone. Yoga is all about the acceptance of our lack of perfection.”
“Mitch can totally vibe with that concept,” Des said. “You should hear him play Purple Haze on his Stratocaster.”
Kenny let out a laugh, that same high-pitched whoop he’d had when they were kids-one part rebel yell, two parts Woody Woodpecker. “You wouldn’t say that to him if you weren’t wearing that.” Meaning her holstered SIG.
“Actually, she would,” Mitch told him. “My sound is something of an acquired taste. Kimberly, are your folks into yoga, too?”
“Not at all. But they’re both very active. Father still does the same Royal Canadian Air Force calisthenics every morning that he’s been doing since I was a little girl. Mother plays tennis and tends the Captain Chadwick Blush Noisettes like a demon. Mother’s very particular about ‘her’ roses. Won’t let Augie within ten feet of the things. They were planted way back in the fifties, I’m told. Tourists always stop to take pictures of them. The two of them will be along soon. Mother has this thing about always showing up twenty minutes late. Something she learned at finishing school.”
Beth returned now with a platter of sizzling stuffed mushrooms. Set it down on the table, poured herself a glass of white wine and joined them.
“Des, did you know that this guy here saved my life?” Kenny said. “Real deal. If it weren’t for Mitch Berger I would be embedded face down in the Stuyvesant Town playground to this very day.”
“Lapidus, I think you’re overselling it a bit,” Mitch said.
“If that’s the case then he’s been overselling it for twenty years,” Beth said. “Because that’s how long I’ve been hearing this story.”
“See, there was this incredibly hulking playground bully named Bruce Cooperman,” Kenny continued, ignoring them both. “He was a total goon. And huge. At age ten he was already shaving. Everyone was terrified of him. Everyone except for Berger. One day after school, I’m shooting hoops on the basketball court and Bruce starts giving me all sorts of grief. Takes my ball away from me, knocks me down, puts his big, fat foot on my neck and won’t let me back up. Won’t let me breathe. I’m facedown on the pavement, preparing to meet my maker, when I hear Berger say, ‘You’re being kind of rough on the little guy, aren’t you? Wanna try that with me?’ ”
“I stole that line from The Dirty Dozen,” Mitch interjected. “Clint Walker said it to John Cassavetes.”
“Bruce backed right off and gave me my ball back. And he never, ever bothered me again-because he knew that if he did, he’d have to take on Mitchell Berger, King of the Playground. Berger used to take me to see his favorite old movies, too. Heck, he pretty much taught me what cool was.”
“This is disturbing on so many different levels,” Des said, awestruck.
“Don’t mind her, Lapidus. She’s just bitter about being on duty tonight.”
“Ah yes, this would be the infamous Dorset Flasher. He strikes every weekend, I understand.”
“That’s correct.” Des raised an eyebrow at him. “And you come down here every weekend, right?”
“Why, yes. Yes, I do. Got in last night around 8:30. I drove my Prius down. It’s the light green one parked out front. I take Amtrak when I can but the train leaves Boston at 5:35 and sometimes I just can’t get away that early. The next train isn’t until 9:45, which means I don’t get here until midnight. So I jumped in the Prius. Made it here in just under two hours. Man, you would not believe the highway mileage that bad boy gets if I keep the speedometer just under
…” Kenny gulped, his eyes widening. “Whoa, you don’t think I’m the Flasher, do you?”
Des shook her head. “The man I’m looking for hasn’t got a love life. And you most certainly do.”
Kenny and Kimberly beamed at each other as the doorbell rang. Beth answered it and came back out onto the porch with Kimberly’s parents, Dex and Maddee. Beth’s smile seemed fixed a bit tighter now.
The notorious Dex Farrell wore a blue-and-white seersucker suit, red bow tie, crisp white shirt and polished cordovan loafers. His gaze was probing behind his rimless glasses. If Dex had been a Hollywood character actor, Mitch reflected, he would have specialized in playing judges and senators. He had a big head of neatly brushed white hair, a strong, decisive jaw. His manner was that of a man given to serious reasoning and sound judgment. All of which was a total deception. In reality he was none of those things. His wife Maddee was tallish and painfully thin. She wore a yellow summer dress, a pearl necklace and a truly alarming amount of bright magenta lipstick.
Kimberly went over to greet them with Des in tow. Animated conversation ensued. Mitch was about to join them when Kenny held him back.
“I know this comes out of nowhere, Berger, but I have a slightly humongous favor to ask of you. Would you be my best man?”
“Lapidus, I’d be honored… Wait, do I have to wear a tux?”
“I’m afraid so. And if you want to pass I’ll certainly understand.”
“For you, it’s no problem. Consider it done.”
Kenny let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God. Seriously, I may not survive the experience if you’re not right there by my side. Maddee’s insisting on a full-frontal Yacht Club freak show. I love Kimmy to death but her folks are… scary. Dex isn’t what you’d commonly think of as All There. And Maddee’s just real tightly wrapped. Plus she’s one of those insular country club types who’s never worked a day in her life. Mom can’t stand her, though she adores Kimmy. Hell, how can you not? And as long as the two of us are happy, mom’s cool with it.”
Dex Farrell built himself a gin and tonic and sat on the wicker sofa with it, his gaze fixed out on the rather gaudy rose garden. Mitch fortified himself with four more devilled eggs and headed on over there. “Mr. Farrell? I’m Mitch Berger.”
He stared at Mitch for a second before he said, “Of course you are, sir.” Dex spoke very softly. And slo-o-owly. Forcing Mitch to lean in closer to him. “Please… join me, Mr. Berger.”
Mitch flopped down next to him. “Only if you make it Mitch, okay?”
“She’s a fine figure of a woman-your fiancee.”
“We’re not engaged. We were, but we’re not anymore.”
“My mistake. Sorry if I raised a sore subject.”
“You didn’t.”
Maddee Farrell swooped down on them now like a protective mother hawk. “And this must be Mr. Berger,” she exclaimed brightly.
“He prefers to go by Mitch,” Dex informed her.
“Mitch, I’ve had have numerous opportunities to meet your lovely fiancee but I’ve never-”
“They’re not engaged. They were, but they’re not anymore.”
“It’s just such a pleasure to meet you at long last.” Maddee was an anxious woman with a strained, almost desperate expression on her face. Tightly wrapped indeed. “I understand you’ve recently lost a good deal of weight. I mention this because if you have any clothes that no longer fit, we’re always looking for items for the Nearly New shop at St. Anne’s. Just drop them by any time.”
“I’ll be sure to do that,” said Mitch, who’d already deposited his former wardrobe on the sidewalk in front of his apartment on West 102 Street. Every item was gone in less than sixty seconds.
Maddee studied him with keen-eyed interest. Mitch was still waiting for the lady to blink. “I hope you have an open mind.”
“I certainly try to.”
“My Dex is neither a monster nor a thief. Merely guilty of behaving like a gentleman. And for that he has been demonized, ostracized and-”
“Dear, kindly go away, will you?” Dex said to her quietly.
Maddee’s eyes widened with alarm, as if he’d just smacked her in the face. “Why, of course,” she murmured, scurrying off to the hors d’oeuvres table.
“Please excuse my wife, Mitch. Myself, I ask for no sympathy. I merely wish to live the remainder of my life in peace. I often think of a favorite quote of mine by Mencken: ‘American jurisprudence has been founded upon the axiom that it is the first duty of every citizen to police his neighbors, and especially those he envies or otherwise dislikes.’ Often overlooked these days, Mencken. Quite a shame. He possessed a fine, clear mind.” Dex fell silent for a moment before he added, “I enjoy your essays on the cinema very much. I admire people who write with passion. Or do anything with passion. That’s something I’ve lacked my entire life. I never wanted to head up Farrell and Co., you see. It was expected of me. And so, like a dutiful son, I did what I was expected to do. Unfortunately, some of the fellows whom I trusted-classmates of mine, good friends-did not. They turned their backs on sound financial practices and made our credit rating system over into a trillion-dollar game of three-card monte. Lying thieves, the whole lot of them. They fed me a steady diet of disinformation. I should have figured out what they were up to. Rolled up my sleeves, knocked heads. But I never loved the business enough to care.”
“Forgive me for asking, sir, but if you didn’t know what was going on why didn’t you admit that to Congress?”
Dex stared at him in disbelief. “Point the finger at someone else? Where’s the honor in that?”
“But it’s cost you your career, your good name.”
“Perfectly appropriate under the circumstances. It was my name on the door. Although I refuse to beat myself up over it. I intend to thoroughly enjoy the time I have left on this Earth.” Dex sipped his gin and tonic, gazing out at the roses again. “Why are we here, Mitch?”
“I’m here because Kenny and I were friends back when we were kids.”
“No, I mean all of us. The human race. Have you a favorite thinker on the subject?”
“Yes, I do. My favorite philosopher has always been Mays.”
“Mays?” Dex repeated. “Don’t believe I’m familiar with Mays. First name is…?”
“Willie. He captured the essence of our existence with eight simple words: ‘I see the ball. I hit the ball.’ ”
Dex stared at him blankly. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”
“Only a little. The truth is I have no idea why we’re here. Do you?”
“Yes, I believe I do,” Dex answered firmly. “Drop by some time and we’ll discuss it over a glass of lemonade. No need to call. Just come by. I cherish stimulating conversation.”
Beth’s doorbell rang once again. She went inside to answer it, and reappeared this time with Hal Chapman in tow. Mitch’s trainer wore a tight-fitting pink Izod shirt, tan shorts and flip-flops. His skullet was wet. He seemed to be fresh out of the shower. Also a bit ill at ease.
Mitch went over to say hey.
Hal bumped knucks with him, grinning. “How goes it, bro?”
“Good, thanks,” he said as the master sergeant joined them. “Hal, do you know Des Mitry?”
“We’ve never met.” Des studied Hal with those pale green eyes of hers. “But Mitch can’t stop raving about your skills.”
“It’s my man here who does all of the hard work. I’m just there for him, that’s all.” Hal pulled a cold Sam Adams from the washtub and popped it open. “Kimberly said to stop by after I locked up for the night. Free shrimp, right?”
“And devilled eggs.” Mitch helped himself to four more.
Kenny wandered over and said, “Good to see you again, Hal.”
“And you, bro. ”
“Lapidus, your mom tried to tell me what you do for a living. I didn’t understand one word of it.”
“I’m just a glorified geek, Berger. I used to work out of my rotten little apartment on Trowbridge Street. Now I have an office with thirty-two full-time employees, contracts up the wazoo. It’s pretty neat.”
“And you and Kimberly are going to live up there?”
“That’s the plan. We’ll keep house there during the week and spend weekends here so Kimmy can still teach a few classes and see her folks. I should think you’d be happy about this, Hal.”
Hal stiffened, his nostrils flaring. “How would you know what would make me happy?”
“It’s a promotion, right? You’ll be in charge of the place Monday through Friday.”
“Meaning what?” Hal demanded angrily, thrusting his jaw in and out. Mitch hadn’t known this, but his trainer could turn from a gentle lamb into a red-faced rage monkey in the blink of an eye. “You think I’m some loser who’s starving for crumbs?”
Kenny was aghast. “No, absolutely not. You’re totally misunderstanding what I’m-”
“And why’s that?” Hal was breathing heavily now. “Because I’m some stupid pinhead?”
Kimberly darted over to them, her brow furrowing with concern. “Kenny doesn’t think that at all, Hal,” she assured him, her voice low and soothing. “No one does.”
Kenny nodded his head. “She’s right. Chill out, man.”
“Don’t tell me to chill out!” roared Hal, shoving him roughly.
Kenny staggered back against the food table, rattling the dishware and glasses.
Mitch stepped between the two of them, suddenly feeling as if he’d been teleported back to the Stuyvesant Town playground. “Dial it down, Hal. Just take it easy.”
Hal gave him a shove, too. “Don’t try to tell me what to do!”
Mitch shoved him back. “I’m not trying to tell you. I’m telling you.”
Des stood right there, in uniform, watching them-but opting not to intercede.
Hal took a deep breath in and out, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. This was a bad idea. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Then he stormed out the screen door and out of there.
“Good lord…” Maddee Farrell gasped, watching him go.
“I shouldn’t have invited him,” Kimberly blurted out. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault, dear,” Beth said.
“No, it totally was. Hal used to think he had a crush on me. Not that anything ever happened between us. I-I thought he was over it. I was wrong.”
Kimberly wasn’t alone. There was plenty of wrongola to go around, Mitch realized. He’d thought Hal was easygoing. And Des had called him a man who was living the dream. He wasn’t. He was living the nightmare-in love with a coworker who had feelings for someone else. Clearly, the man was boiling with jealousy and resentment. So much that Mitch wondered if Kimberly was being totally candid with them. Had she and Hal been romantically involved at some point in the not-so-distant past? He wondered. Same as he wondered if Des could cross Hal Chapman off of her list of suspects after all.
He had no doubt that she was standing there thinking the very same thing.